“It costs almost nothing to become a writer, and almost everything to be a good one.”
– Stephen Parolini
I DIDN’T remember the first day I become a writer. Even now, it’s easy to see myself as a writer, and yet in the same time feeling that I’ve not yet reached the standard of being one either. I guess it’s true – writing about something is easy, writing about something and gives some justice to it is another story.
Tracing back my very first blog post in February 2010, I think that my writing career began when I delivered that senior high school graduation speech in December 2009. I was a year 12 fresh graduate, with high hopes and dreams for the future, and thinking of majoring in Media and Communication. Well, it was time to learn some real writing skills.
I’ve always been fond of writing, that’s for sure. Looking back at my six journals, I encountered the most ridiculous writing that I’ve ever written. Hey, what did a 10-year-old know about writing back then? A couple of love poems, fancy tragic stories that were translated straight from Korean drama series, and other seriously you-got-to-be-kidding-me short stories.
But yeah, I did put something on the paper.
Now, after 16 months of blogging, I could see some improvements towards my writing. Some were major, some were just undetectable. Yet to write, or not to write, is a complicated set of feelings and emotions – the words reflected the author’s soul: to give a glimpse of what’s hidden.
Considering oneself a writer is such a hard thing to do. You know millions of other people who can write moving, deep, emotional stuffs like clapping their hands, compared to me who needs to focus all inner strength and energy to do so. A writer is blessed with the talent to write. Me? I’m just another girl trying to grasp the tail of the wind, writing on the air that might vanish in a minute.
Somehow, I don’t have the sense of authority to write, or yet, do not manage to find one. I love writing, but loving to write and being able to be a good writer is two different languages altogether.
To be honest, I never dreamed of having a blog, or to write about my life so passionately. I just simply – want to write. Dis-classifying myself, I know that I’m just simply a writer. A good one or not, I give that judgement sheet to the readers.
That said, I guess the most important question is, why do I write? People write for many reasons. Some do it to earn money, some write for pleasure, some write for their passion in movies, music, or politics. A simple question, with a million answers.
Randy Pausch once said, “I was trying to put myself in a bottle that would one day wash up on the beach for my children. If I were a painter, I would have painted for them. If I were a musician, I would have composed music. But I am a lecturer. So I lectured.”
Yet I am a writer. So I write.