Why does one begin to write? Because she feels misunderstood, I guess. Because it never comes out clearly enough when she tries to speak. Because she wants to rephrase the world, to take it in and give it back again differently, so that everything is used and nothing is lost. Because it’s something to do to pass the time until she is old enough to experience the things she writes about.
Why am I compelled to write? Because the writing saves me from this complacency I fear. Because I have no choice. Because I must keep the spirit of my revolt and myself alive. Because the world I create in the writing compensates for what the real world does not give me. By writing I put order in the world, give it a handle so I can grasp it.
Grammar…It’s more important THAN you think.
Where I’m coming from…
Okay, so I am a recent college graduate…I am also married [to my wonerful husband - this was edited in per his request] and have a daughter. Informative, right? Oh yeah, and I am a huge fan of commas.
I have a bachelor’s degree in English literature (rather broad), and I minored in Women’s Studies. No, we’re not talking about basket weaving and making pancakes…I studied women writers, gender politics, sexuality, and diversity (including race). My senior paper was a 45 page evaluation of Toni Morrison’s novel “The Bluest Eye,” and its commentary on color based beauty and the history of the baby doll. Interesting. Very Interesting.
I love to read and write. I have a close relationship with words, and I hate editing. I tend to allot sentimental value to everything on the page. I’m working on that. Editing. Working on that. Pun anyone? Okay, well I never said I was a comedian.
I tend towards pessimism…But I’m trying to change that too. It’s hard to expect the worst when you looking at your child and can only imagine the best that you wish for her. Writers tend to be eternal pessimists, but I guess I just have to learn when to put on and take off that cloak.
If no one reads this, which it’s unlikely anyone will, it doesn’t matter. I’m used to talking to myself. I write mostly for myself, but it would be a lie for any writer to say that they don’t ever need an audience. If nothing else, I know that my teachers and professors have served as an audience…and now I just have to prove to myself that they weren’t just handing me an “A” to shut me up. I have to write for me now.
