Writing for Myself
For as long as I can remember, I have always had a pen and paper around. In those numerous pads of paper, I would write stories. Back then, I was about six years old, and would pen stories about my toys as if they had their own thoughts. Back then, writing seemed like the “thing to do” so to speak.
15 years later, I still carry multiple notebooks and pens with me at all times. However, now instead of telling the stories of my stuffed animals, I tell the stories of real people. I know what’s important to them, and I’m given the gift of sharing their stories to the world. I’ve told the story of pastors of multiple denominations, the stories of bookstore owners, met members of Kansas, and interviewed college students about different issues.
However, sometimes I indulge myself and get out a pad and paper to simply write fiction. Or, I take to my journal to write down what I’m feeling, whether in happiness or in sadness. I write for myself sometimes, and that’s okay too.
At the end of the day, writing will be more than just a meal ticket. It will be more than just a job for me. Writing is something I’m passionate about. So far, I’ve had many opportunties that have lead me down to different paths and people. I’m only excited about the future of where I’ll be lead to when all is said and done. I hope to write in many newspapers, and maybe eventually pen a novel. Who knows?
I think the reason why I love writing is simply because it’s something that feels like it’s been a part of me. While I do well and professionally, I still want to do it for myself. I believe that’s when you truly find what you’re meant to do. When you’ll do it even when you don’t get paid. Sure, getting paid for something that you love doing is always a plus, however it’s something that if you didn’t get paid for, that would be okay too.
So, I’ll keep on writing. For my journal. For my blog readers. For the people who are currently reading this. But, most of all, I’ll write for myself.