There was a girl. She was the quiet sort, who preferred silence to speaking, typing to talking. She had been this way since she first developed the art of speech, from the moment she grasped the skill of articulating words so sophisticated as "mama" and "no". She didn't like the way the words sounded as they slipped from her terminally-chapped lips, but staring at the letters neatly arranged on a page the color of clean sheets, words became powerful, beautiful, even. As English teachers faded in and out of her life like fairy godmothers, she learned to play matchmaker, placing words side by side, testing their compatibility. It wasn't long until she became addicted to sculpting sentences, so much so that casual conversation couldn't hold her interest. It was not an inability to verbally communicate, but a conscious choice. Why raise her voice when her fingers told the story so much better than her mouth ever would? So she went on, telling tales that no one would ever hear, crafting characters and plotlines as an escape from the boundaries of her sheltered childhood. She explored all outlets of her creative impulse, stringing stanzas for her new best friend, poetry, even attempting to write songs and novels that turned from self-proclaimed "strokes of genius" to utterly disposable, within the course of a few lines. Through all the scraps, successes, and recurring episodes of writer's block, she constructed an identity for herself. She became a writer.
There isn't an ending to that little anecdote because I am the aforementioned girl. I thought it fitting to introduce myself in the third person because I've always been captivated by fairy tales and fantasy lands, while I've found my own life to be rather lackluster in comparison. In fact, my favorite part of myself is undoubtedly the far-off creations constantly coursing through my brain, which, ironically, have nothing to do with myself at all.
As I've matured, it's been a challenge at times to keep my thoughts rooted in reality, when my mind's ceaselessly compelled to soar through the land of happy endings. But as I've come to realize more and more in my adolescent years and through my high school education, the world isn't like my childish fantasies. And though I still adore writing, especially as a means of escape, I'm learning to apply my passion to more tangible realms of literature. In this blog, I intend to focus on analyzing the writing styles of pieces I encounter through the Academy curriculum, including current events articles, novels, essays, etc. I'm sure I'll also comment on writing I come across outside of Academy, as well as the process of my personal development as an aspiring wordsmith. My goal is to inform and inspire both myself and any interested readers by exploring the strengths of writers in all areas of expertise. With that in mind, welcome aboard, fellow word lovers!
The End (for now)
