Pursuing a Passion

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Ernest Hemingway

I have always told people that I am a writer. If you have a conversation with me, then you can tell that I can talk for hours on end. This usually suffices as proof that I could be a writer because I seem to have stuff to say.

I went through a month and a half long trip to the University of St. Andrews to study Creative Writing under Johnathan Falla. I actually failed that, I got a 69 out of 100. After I got my grade, I ignored the commentary left by Mr. Falla. The bad grade caused me to be scared to write again. For those people who ask to see my work, I convince them that I could be a writer because I have written in the past.

I have read a good amount from “The Outsiders” by S.E. Hinton to “Harrison Bergeron” by Kurt Vonnegut. I can recite a list of my favorite poets and time periods of authors. I can quote and make references to just about every book that I was forced to read throughout my childhood and education. I can fool most people that I could be a writer because I have read books vaulted by other authors.

But if you were to look at my daily pattern, writing is something that I claim to want to do but actually do very little of. I can deceive myself that I am a writer because I haphazardly produce poetry and prose during emotional turbulent periods.

It is easy for people to claim photography as a passion because it often does not require a lot of work. With smartphones having increasingly better cameras and editing tools, anyone could be a photographer to an extent. The difference between a professional and an amateur is their investment: equipment, time, and knowledge. Money, time, and work. If these investments are heavily invested in a field then the investor might be a professional.

Medium’s tag line in the top right corner is “Write a Story.” Everyone has stories that could be told but I will write to see if my stories and thoughts need to be released, whether for me or for others. I will not be worried if anyone wants to hear them, until I have shouted these words of mine as loud as I can.

…I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs to the world….

Songs of my Myself LII by Walt Whitman