The Written Word

I’ve been writing since I was six-years-old. I kid you not. Back then, I don’t think I understood what it was like to truly tell a story. All I wanted was to let the words out. To paint those pictures hidden deep within my soul.

At the back part of my mind, I’d been embarrassed about the fact that I wanted to be a writer. Since I hadn’t understood what lay within me at such an early age, I kept quite about it. I used to write my little stories and hide them. Somehow, my mom would always find them. She’d never understood them, so she always threw them out.

Throughout the years, my passion for the written word has grown. It’s gotten to the point where if I don’t write, I flounder in a dark abyss. Mind you, there are moments when I don’t write at all, but that’s usually attributed to random circumstances.

Not only do I write, I ingest the written word through every possible means. Books are my lifeline to the worlds authors create from the depths of their minds. Romance, Fantasy, Young Adult, Science Fiction, Poetry, Paranormal, Horror (Though I don’t care for this genre much.) — they incite my imagination in ways I’d never known a book ever could. I love the fact that we can thoroughly imagine the worlds people create.

A good many like to think that writing isn’t a true profession. That it’s something people do to pass the time. It’s not. It’s a part of who we are. A way for us to express ourselves within this crazy world we live in. If only people would understand what the written word means to us.