So anyways, I wrote this essay about anything I wanted to write about for my A&M application and just decided to post it. I like it, which is shocking. Like poetry, I'm not normally proud of my essays. But this one is different because it's a little piece of Linley. So, as if you don't get enough little pieces of Linley through this blog, here's my essay about writing.
I love to write.
Interestingly, though, I’m not a very likely candidate to be a writer. I’m kind of loud, fairly outgoing, stumble over my words when I talk, have witty comebacks that come just a few hours too late, have the penmanship of a fourteen-year-old boy, and seemingly do not have the patience to finish a short story, much less a novel.
But maybe those are all the reasons why I am a writer. My loudness and gregarious personality help me to shape characters that are both somewhat similar to me, but also very similar to the shy little girl who I used to be. My diverse range of behaviors through my life helps me to create protagonists (and, if I’m being honest, antagonists) who are accurate and believable. Then there’s my unfortunate inability to get out what I want to say. When I’m excited about something, I talk all too quickly and my words jumble together. There is no “backspace” on life, although I wish there was. Being able to write gives me the ability to flesh out my ideas and thoughts clearly and without any question as to what I’m trying to say. As for the witty retorts, well, I can just use those in writing because they’ve technically never been used before. Though my penmanship is fairly embarrassing on my bad days and still not something to be necessarily proud of on my good days, I find it amusingly ironic and believe that it adds to my overall character. On the plus side, I’ve become a pretty fast typist. And last but not least, the patience problem. Writing is a tedious task that requires huge and overwhelming amounts of patience that I didn’t know I had in me until I sat down at a computer and started writing. Suddenly, three pages turned into thirteen and I had a new chapter on my hands. Thinking out a plot, making characters, determining a resolution, and then going through and editing takes an unbelievable amount time. Yet somehow the patience that likes to hide itself during my math class appears, and I make something from an idea in my head.
I created a blog back in April of 2010. It was initially a way to get myself out into the writing world and maybe become one of those famous bloggers I hear about on the news sometimes. But now it is just a forum for me to write about whatever I feel like writing about. Amazingly, people actually read it. I have three “official” followers that appear on my page but I’ve had friends come up to me in the halls at school or people post on my Facebook and talk about how they read my blog. They say that I have a way with words. To these praises, I say a slightly embarrassed “thank you” but refuse to let it go to my head. My blog is a vessel to be myself in an unscripted and real way, not to show off my abilities.
Maybe my work will be sold in bookstores one day. Maybe it won’t. To be honest, I don’t want accolades or awards for my work, though I won’t refuse them if they’re offered. I write because it feels good, not because it sounds good.
I am...
Listening to: "She (For Liz)" by Parachute
Looking forward to: Not going to school until 2 tomorrow afternoon
Procrastinating: Unpacking from the lake
Thinking about: How I'm still not over my Parachute obsession
Wondering: How I'm gong to do on my math final...bleh
Reflecting over: Sunsets
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