My Writing Journey

My earliest pieces of writing can be found in the attic of my house amongst the mice and holiday decor. These journals from my elementary school hold a myriad of tales consisting of animals of various locations befriending each other and bettering one another's life. In a neighboring area of the attic written reports about the pyramids and different types of clouds can be found from my summer writing my mother forced me to create while I on break. This attic holds a majority of the history of my writing and how I became the writer I am today but instead of climbing up a decrepit ladder into the dark one can simply look to my father for the origins of my actual writing career. I believe that all forms of writing have an ultimate goal to tell

I experimented with sound patterns like rhyme and figurative devices. Short form poetry was my specialty and I certainly thought that my haikus about cascading rain and bleak darkness were worthy of everyone's attention. Thankfully I became a happier child towards the end of my middle school years and the poems reflected this. Entering high school I put the poetry aside and soon after freshman and sophomore year became the most stagnant time for my writing journey. Every piece fell into the same pattern. A novel or short story would be read and a non-analytical summary of the writing would be composed that consisted of no new thoughts in the standard five-paragraph form. I still was annoyed by this structure but had come to accept it as the only path to creating a successful paper. This annoyance changed though when I entered junior year and enrolled in AP

In this course I took what I had gained from AP Language and began to critically explore more complex novels, short stories, poetry, and other forms of writing. I discovered that I loved to analyze symbolism in novels and connect the meaning of the symbolism to events happening in the current time period. I adored reading a piece by a particular writer and unearthing their style. Finding the nuances in their work that came to life on the page and made a reader know who they were reading the minute the page was ready to be turned. In this specific period of time I felt like a writer. I was proud of the work I was producing and believed that I had an ability to write interesting and occasionally thought provoking arguments. When the course had reached its conclusion I had a passion ignited in myself. I was saddened to see my time with the material come to a close, but was excited to take my techniques to