I Want To Write, But I'm Stuck
I wrote my first story when I was 8 years old. It was a fan-story about Michael Myers from the Halloween movies. lol
Ever since, I was hooked on making the imagination in my head real by writing it on paper. I wrote all the time, any chance I could, about any subject I could think of. I would write in my notebook paper for school until my mother scolded me for using it all up faster than she could supply it. So then I started writing on any paper I could find- grocery store paper sacks, old documents from my grandpa's office, old invoice pads from my uncle's business, envelopes, whatever I found!
When I was 10, my grandmother gave me her old electric typewriter and a package of typing paper for my birthday. My life was changed forever! I spent the summer of 1990 holed up in my bedroom, click-click-clicking away on that typewriter, churning out short stories like I was a baby Stephen King. What I wrote was mostly horror. I favored ghost stories and historical werewolf tales. I eventually branched out into other territories too- fantasy, drama, thrillers, murder mysteries, etc. If I was particularly proud of a story, I'd let my parents read it, but mostly what I wrote was for my eyes only. I had dreams of growing up to become as well-known as some of my favorites- Stephen King, Anne Rice, Amy Tan, Charles De Lint.
As time marched on, my typewriter became obsolete and I could no longer find ribbon for it, so I gave it up and went back to using the standard pen and paper. I filled more notebooks than Harriet The Spy! I kept all of my stories in a huge binder. I would let my friends at school read some of them, and they liked them so much they would pass the stories around and soon everyone knew I was a budding writer. I got requests to write stories and add my friends as characters. It was quite a little service! Then I started writing a gag newspaper (later I found out Stephen King himself also did this as a kid!) about my friends and family, making up ridiculous "articles" about their lives. Even my family got a kick out of that. lol
As I grew older, though, the real world settled in, and I had to work, pay bills, clean house, take care of animals, and do daily headache-stuff like worry about car maintenance, sorting out conflicts at my various jobs, and other general daily life chores that no one really enjoys. I'm not using that as an excuse- lots of writers thrive on these kinds of chaotic mundane existences. But I guess I didn't. My writing habits slowly tapered until they were practically gone. I don't write anymore except for on EP. I threw most of my old stories away (embarrassment about the poor quality), and now I don't really tell people about my ex-passion for writing.
It's sad, I miss writing, but EP is enough I suppose.
Ever since, I was hooked on making the imagination in my head real by writing it on paper. I wrote all the time, any chance I could, about any subject I could think of. I would write in my notebook paper for school until my mother scolded me for using it all up faster than she could supply it. So then I started writing on any paper I could find- grocery store paper sacks, old documents from my grandpa's office, old invoice pads from my uncle's business, envelopes, whatever I found!
When I was 10, my grandmother gave me her old electric typewriter and a package of typing paper for my birthday. My life was changed forever! I spent the summer of 1990 holed up in my bedroom, click-click-clicking away on that typewriter, churning out short stories like I was a baby Stephen King. What I wrote was mostly horror. I favored ghost stories and historical werewolf tales. I eventually branched out into other territories too- fantasy, drama, thrillers, murder mysteries, etc. If I was particularly proud of a story, I'd let my parents read it, but mostly what I wrote was for my eyes only. I had dreams of growing up to become as well-known as some of my favorites- Stephen King, Anne Rice, Amy Tan, Charles De Lint.
As time marched on, my typewriter became obsolete and I could no longer find ribbon for it, so I gave it up and went back to using the standard pen and paper. I filled more notebooks than Harriet The Spy! I kept all of my stories in a huge binder. I would let my friends at school read some of them, and they liked them so much they would pass the stories around and soon everyone knew I was a budding writer. I got requests to write stories and add my friends as characters. It was quite a little service! Then I started writing a gag newspaper (later I found out Stephen King himself also did this as a kid!) about my friends and family, making up ridiculous "articles" about their lives. Even my family got a kick out of that. lol
As I grew older, though, the real world settled in, and I had to work, pay bills, clean house, take care of animals, and do daily headache-stuff like worry about car maintenance, sorting out conflicts at my various jobs, and other general daily life chores that no one really enjoys. I'm not using that as an excuse- lots of writers thrive on these kinds of chaotic mundane existences. But I guess I didn't. My writing habits slowly tapered until they were practically gone. I don't write anymore except for on EP. I threw most of my old stories away (embarrassment about the poor quality), and now I don't really tell people about my ex-passion for writing.
It's sad, I miss writing, but EP is enough I suppose.
Age:
31-35
,
Female
