I have had a love of words all my life. I was (and am still) brought up to appreciate the value of words and of writing those words. I wrote my first stories and poems when I was very young—young enough to have to dictate them to my mother in order to record them. In the seventh grade, I had my first real classes on creative writing. I had attempted to write a few stories before then, with no great success, but this class showed me how to look at writing creatively from a different angle—an angle that made sense to me.
In that class, we were given an assignment—to write a quest story. Each of us came up with a plot for an approximately eight page story (though I’m sure that I was not alone in exceeding that) and wrote it, trying to use all the traditional elements of the hero’s quest. We peer-edited them in class which helped me a lot. I got the honest opinions of someone my age and they really brought me down to earth and made me a better writer as well as more aware of my audience.
I ended up writing my story about a girl in England who discovers another world and, soon after, finds she must save it. I don’t think the story was exceptional in any way, but I enjoyed writing it and, to me, that was really all that mattered. After that assignment, I began writing whenever I had the time. It didn’t matter what it was, I just wrote it. Stories about my friends, about me, journal entries, fanfiction, completely random ideas that just popped into my head. . . I wrote it all and enjoyed it all.
Since then, I’ve begun seventeen or eighteen stories which I work on constantly and email segments of to my friends. Only two of those are complete. I absolutely love to write (creatively at least; analytical writing is not as fun for me) and hope to be a published author some day.