Essay question: Write a creative reflection on ‘My writing life.’ Example

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My writing life

Practically speaking, not once had I dreamed that I will be a writer or imagined myself engaging in a serious writing life. I was a more practical person whose focus was in the nut and bolt of a thing rather than why or what of issues. Regardless of this, I was always a reader, and eventually became a writer who naturally has interest in writing and using various words. The thought associated with writing and working with various words has greatly appealed to me than even singing my favorite songs.

Despite being a good writer nowadays, my writing life began in a much unexpected way. Actually, once while reading a particular literature, my mind crumbled to dust as I suddenly realized I might be wrong on some things thereby questioning some things I initially thought I knew. I felt I had to build up reality afresh and shape it with the bricks of words. I therefore really desired to write, longed to write and looked forward for the same. I started by writing down my opinions when I passed by a barbershop whose outstanding calligraphy kept me thinking of various ideas associated with the calligraphy. I got a ballpoint pen, sought a suitable place and began scribbling my names and related ideas in a similar calligraphy. True enough, I composed a story out of that, a story that was completely filled with various imaginative pictures. This marked my first and independent experience in writing as I can remember and which launched my writing journey. In fact, from then on I was compelled to sneak my ideas in the random notebooks and in the various word documents that were scattered within my brother’s laptop. I did this whenever any opportunity showed up and this felt so right and fulfilling to me.

To be truthful, the things that I wrote were often than not messed up, I can’t help but laugh loud when I remember this. In fact, I feel like during that time I was a robot formed to produce random words and ensure disorganization prevails on planet earth. Despite the things I wrote being more curious, they significantly helped me. I wrote, continued writing and even furthered my writing to various levels within the writing ladder. Ultimately, I began to write many short stories. And, by providing something with a somehow- narrative shape, the thing took a proper direction. In their beginnings, their middles and their endings, my writings turned out to be greatly improved and I sooner got control of my quality-related panics. I began to understand myself, my views as well as my perspectives in relation to writing.

I came to realize that writing is essentially a discovery and hence knew that in case my writing could not direct me to discovery, then this writing is not worth that much. I expose the thing that I should say-and these are the secret messages behind various words. With a greater desire to attempt writing high standard work and the successful convincing of my local neighbourhood with my few page stories, I indeed felt so encouraged. On some occasions however, I separated myself from my encouraging friends when I thought that I was not improving my writing. I eventually ended up really wondering the trouble some writers undergo just to get noticed and be great just as the likes of Marina Keegan and Thomas Wolfe, the duo who have seriously motivated me to write perfectly.

However, just in time before all my hopes were gone, I read a book highlighting that it is always dangerous for an individual to strive to write anything well and specifically if it is the individual’s first time to do so. This woke me up and I came to notice that fear often hinders our fine writing just like wrong trials hinder better learning. Yes, I took this encouragement into my heart while equally laying aside my very critical self. I therefore played, joined words, separated words, and reorganized the words. I wrote badly so that I could write well, I accepted myself to trip around. I allowed my words to flow in a willy-nilly way with my own thoughts swaying from one idea to the next as I took the side trips.

Through this I came to terms with the fact that free and liberal writing done in greater quantities is quite enjoyable and provides the basis for unravelling new ideas just as it clarifies thinking. Thus increased my joy in writing and turned out to be quite fundamental as I needed to be as clear as possible in my writings, just for the sake of my future readers whom I feel that I owe this.

Today, am still enjoying my writing, am very much interested in any writing and still writes for myself in a like manner to the way I did before. The only difference here is that I do my writing with others so that I can receive feedback regarding my work and increasingly learn from others. Yes, this requires confidence and I often become not only vulnerable but open to the various opinions with the final prize of being among top writers in addition to developing best thinking. I often look back and remember the far am from in terms of writing. I write and enjoy writing.

Though I may never be likened to the likes of Thomas Wolfe or Marina Keegan, I undoubtedly know that one day I will be one of them and yes, pounding out words on my keyboard will still remain part of me. This also extends to exploring all I have knowledge about as well as all I do not have knowledge about, searching for surprises and having high hopes for more wisdom. In my life, I have always been interested in writing and writing has always remained lovely, lively and still continues to be a journey and not the end itself. With this in mind, am still calculating the best way of approaching my writing on a daily basis and in a developmental manner. I know within my body that I enjoy writing and that there is more need for me to write, rewrite, think and rethink.