My writing history

I’ve wanted to be a writer for a very long time, yet I was never encouraged or surrounded by any kind of artistic mindset.  I’ve never had artistic friends or relatives.  There has never been a community I’ve been involved in that had a creative outlook on life.  It’s why I love San Francisco so much, the free-spirited mindset of the people that live there, maybe not as much anymore but the essence is still there.

I remember when I was around 11 or 12 and seeing my mom’s computer in her bedroom, this was a very old computer that didn’t really do anything but hold word documents.  My mom read a lot of romance novels, I’m assuming as an escape from the mundane existence of every day life.  They were the recess peanut butter cups of literature.  I don’t recall what she had written on her computer but it was in the form of a story.  I believe she was attempting to write her own, although I never asked for confirmation because if she’s anything like me she would be mortified to know someone read her unfinished works even if they don’t remember anything from it.  But knowing she had a drive too, however faint or strong it might have been, makes me a little more motivated to push further.

In school I don’t remember any of my assignments from grade school except a few stories I had written.  Stories of dragons and knights saving the day.  This passion ran deep inside of me but it was never stoked to burn brighter.  It was the fantasy of it that drew me in but I think deeper down it was the love of writing that kept me going.

I mentioned that before along with a high school project that I never finished in a previous post.  It was more of a rambling (no really, I ramble sometimes) post trying to re-convince myself that I can be a writer.  I was reminiscing about my history and how almost everything in my life regarding a career veered towards writing but was done in by laziness or doubt.

In high school my senior project was to write a novel.  I never followed through.  That crushing doubt weighed on top of me.  I had no support.  It was the first time in school that I didn’t finish something and got a 0.  I like to think that if I had some encouragement that it would have been different.  I’d have been on a path and my passion would have come out.  Now I only have myself to rely on and I need to try and lean harder on me.

When it came to picking where I wanted to go to college and what I wanted to major in I remember a specific conversation with my Dad.  I said I wanted to be a writer.  He wasn’t discouraging, which was a positive.  If anything I think he might have actually said a semi-supportive comment.  Ironically, I believe my Mom was the one who squashed my dreams.  Out of fear that I would end up like my Dad with no real career and making very little money she didn’t discourage writing directly but scoffed at me taking my Dad’s advice when he gave it.  I ended up doing Computer Science and dropped out.

I’ve never loved anything I’ve done, and I understand not everyone gets to love their jobs.  The only thing I ever go back to is writing.  I’ve done business school and computer science and they weren’t enough.

Business is the soul sucking death of creativity.  Even advertising and marketing, the one aspect where you can be creative, is more focused on tricking consumers rather than inspiring or impressing them.  I don’t ever want to be a businessman.  It would kill everything inside of me.

Computer science is creativity but in a very cold sense.  I never got into it because the math got in the way.  I’ve always been good at math but I can’t connect the dots between math and art well enough to flourish.  It also didn’t help that I had no focus on what I really wanted to do and kind of picked CS as a “why not” option.

So now I’m here, again.  Writing still.  The most successful stint I’ve ever had at writing actually.  Writing a terrible 30,000+ word story that remains unfinished and hidden but still exists.  I’ve written thousands of words of poetry.  Thousands more of short stories and prose.  I’ve attempted to enter a writing competition if that pesky near-death experience hadn’t  gotten in my way.  I’m moving forward on being a real writer.  I’m getting closer.  I just can’t stop this time.

I know I can do it, even if nobody else thinks so.

2 thoughts on “My writing history

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