Writing For Myself - And Maybe Others
Last fall, I received an unexpected e-mail from a relative. He asked if I had ever considered writing short stories because he enjoyed reading my social media commentary on everyday life.
Truthfully, I had considered writing as a profession. In high school, we were asked to write a journal about potential career choices. I explained that I didn't know what field I wanted to pursue because I was interested in so many different things. I enjoyed writing, but I also really liked science. Other topics caught my interest, as well, including history, architecture, and design. I was afraid if I limited myself to one area, I might get bored. My teacher wrote back that perhaps I should consider writing for a publication such as National Geographic; I would have the opportunity to learn and write about a variety of topics, minimizing the threat of boredom.
At first, this sounded like a great opportunity to me. I retained it as a possibility for awhile. I remember telling my sister about it one day. She told me, "You'll never get a job at National Geographic."
Here's the thing: she was almost certainly right. Ignoring the talent and connections often necessary to land coveted jobs, I don't think I had the stamina to be a successful writer as a young adult. I would have had a hard time handling criticism and rejection of my work. Deadlines, as well, would have been very stressful. I was starting to realize this by senior year, and I focused on obtaining a science degree, instead.
I certainly don't write as well as I did when it was a near-daily exercise, but I never stopped enjoying it. I recognize, too, that I communicate fairly well. My relative's message was like a sign that I needed to start writing again. I'm not very disciplined when it comes to keeping a journal, though, so his suggestion was part of the impetus for creating this blog. I appreciate when other people read my posts, but more importantly, I'm writing for myself.
Truthfully, I had considered writing as a profession. In high school, we were asked to write a journal about potential career choices. I explained that I didn't know what field I wanted to pursue because I was interested in so many different things. I enjoyed writing, but I also really liked science. Other topics caught my interest, as well, including history, architecture, and design. I was afraid if I limited myself to one area, I might get bored. My teacher wrote back that perhaps I should consider writing for a publication such as National Geographic; I would have the opportunity to learn and write about a variety of topics, minimizing the threat of boredom.
At first, this sounded like a great opportunity to me. I retained it as a possibility for awhile. I remember telling my sister about it one day. She told me, "You'll never get a job at National Geographic."
Here's the thing: she was almost certainly right. Ignoring the talent and connections often necessary to land coveted jobs, I don't think I had the stamina to be a successful writer as a young adult. I would have had a hard time handling criticism and rejection of my work. Deadlines, as well, would have been very stressful. I was starting to realize this by senior year, and I focused on obtaining a science degree, instead.
I certainly don't write as well as I did when it was a near-daily exercise, but I never stopped enjoying it. I recognize, too, that I communicate fairly well. My relative's message was like a sign that I needed to start writing again. I'm not very disciplined when it comes to keeping a journal, though, so his suggestion was part of the impetus for creating this blog. I appreciate when other people read my posts, but more importantly, I'm writing for myself.
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