Several years ago, I read a book. It wasn’t an especially great book and when I finished it, I wasn’t even that satisfied. I couldn’t help but think, “That heroine could have been so much better.” I wanted her to be braver, to take the initiative more often, to stop caring what everybody else thought so much. The plot was okay, but it would have been way better if I didn’t need to stop and roll my eyes every couple paragraphs. I thought, “Even I could do better than that.” I started thinking about everything I would’ve changed in the book. I complained about it so much that eventually my friend just said, “Why don’t you try and write, then?” That stopped me dead in my tracks. I could definitely talk the talk, but should I even try to walk the walk? But with a set chin and a determined air, I sat down at my desk and opened a new Word document later that night. It started out as a small thing, just fanfiction, really. I got up the nerve to post it online and, well, I never looked back. The feedback was amazing and encouraged me to strive for perfection, to work as hard for my readers and characters as I did for myself. And now, looking back on it, I start to think about why writing was so addictive for me, how hard it actually was, and how it’s still affecting me to this day.
When I first started writing, I thought it would be a piece of cake, as easy as it looked. After reading so many books and watching so many movies, of course ideas of my own would start to circulate through my mind. And I enjoyed thinking out plots and endings and certain moments, but it wasn’t enough. I had an urge to put my ideas into actual words. Everything else I needed was there, including a solid plot, solid characters, and a solid desire to make a world of my own. Through writing, I had a chance to express myself through my own characters. Not to mention the fact that I could finally use the stockpile of excellent jokes I had never gotten to use in real life. But it wasn’t just the jokes that hooked me; it was the possibility to maybe influence some of my readers. I’m not saying I should be a preacher or speaker, but a lot of my fans thought my main character was pretty rad, and I thought I could use that to my advantage. With a largely female fanbase, I tried to relate the fact that girls can be hardcore superspies just as well as James Bond can, maybe even better. This passion fueled my writing. On my first day writing my first story, I went to bed with an impressive thirty-two pages behind me.
But soon the inspiration stopped coming so easily. I had to think out more and more details and sometimes connecting the plot was very difficult (don’t even get me started on story arcs). Whenever writer’s block struck me, I would go weeks without touching my computer, and people would comment begging for me to update. But writer’s block wasn’t the only obstacle I faced. I had to think about whether my vocabulary was rich enough or if maybe it was too difficult for my readers. I’ve had to do extensive research on seemingly random subjects, like how the CIA trains their spies, how bartenders make certain drinks, or about obscure Russian monsters that are supposedly based on Santa Claus. Research wasn’t that bad, though, because I picked up a lot of interesting facts along the way (for example: did you know ancient Chinese warriors used to fill hollowed-out eggs with crushed glass and throw them in their enemies’ faces? You do now!). I’ve spent hours poring over my favorite books trying to think of a suitable first line. So, no, writing isn’t as easy as it looks.
Despite all of the energy needed to make a story work, it’s been absolutely worth it. My reading and writing scores in academics have soared, my comprehension has increased greatly, and my vocabulary has almost doubled in size. I’ve become friends with some of my reviewers and good friends with bloggers to whom I’ve gone to for advice multiple times. Every piece of writing I do in school has been of a much higher quality than it would’ve been if I hadn’t started writing some silly little story a year ago. And the best part of it all? The fact that I’ll never stop improving. I learn new tips and tricks almost every day. Because of writing, I see the world in a whole new light, one filled with inspiration and bursting with possibilities. I try to take mundane, everyday things and turn them into something special. I try to channel real emotions into my characters, who become more alive with every keystroke. I try to develop my characters into something more substantial than just words on a page, something my readers can connect to easily. I try to deliver a piece of work that I can be proud of, for my readers, and for myself. And I think I succeed.
Works of writing, especially fiction, appear to some as just different letters forming different words, put together to form a fun but ultimately meaningless couple of pages. But few catch a good glimpse of the meticulous work sewn into every line and the enormous dedication it takes to devote that much time to writing a story that some doubt anybody would ever read. But that slim chance, that small possibility, that someone would read my story and actually like it, that was enough for me. That’s why I started writing, and that’s why I continue writing. And even though it was hard, I stuck with it, because it was extremely enjoyable and especially gratifying to have a world that I can claim full credit as my creating. I know for a fact that I would be a completely different person today if I hadn’t started writing. Even with all the doubt, hesitation, and endless moments of banging my head against the wall because I had no idea what to do next, writing redeems itself with a great sense of fulfillment and satisfaction that I wouldn’t give up for anything. And that’s why I’m still doing it.