The Importance Of Creative Writing

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“Now, you can create whatever you want within these journals. Anything that inspires you; this is a creative writing assignment project and I look forward to seeing what you all create,” stated my 9th grade English teacher. He assigned a writing journal as the final assignment and we could write about anything we wanted in any fashion we fancied. We had to write 10 articles, whatever they may be. I was excited for this project because I always enjoyed creative writing and I loved being able to choose my own topics. However, when I opened the notebook and saw the dauntingly blank pages staring back at me, I froze. I had nothing to write about. I scribbled down a few meaningless words only to immediately eradicate their existence very shortly …show more content…

The next day I asked my teacher if I could talk after class “sure sure sure, KJ what’s going on have a seat” I sat down exasperated, “I can’t do this assignment. I haven’t got a single thing worth writing about”. “KJ!” my teacher exclaimed, “I didn’t expect this coming from you! But of course, writing block occurs to us all. Here’s what I usually do, I try speed writing”. “Which is…?” I replied. “Well”, he began, “speed writing is when I go to a few different locations and I write about the first thing that comes to my mind for about 15 minutes. I do this in as many different locations until I find the...inspiration I’m looking for, you should try it and if you’re still struggling we can find some pre-designed topics for you to write about, but I know you’ll find it out there, Kij”. I thanked him and went on my …show more content…

I imagined a girl playing piano and I wrote about it. I wrote about the sweet melodies reverberating throughout the large expanse of the room. But alas, it still didn’t fill me with inspiration to write something earth shattering about. I then went out to the track and thought maybe of writing a story about a race. As a runner, I could relate to the pains. I know the feeling of anxiety on the starting line and your heart pounding out of your chest. I felt more connected to this topic, but I still didn’t feel anything insightful- anything worth sharing with people. The last place I went was to was the pond behind the school. I sat there for a while. I looked at the pond and the ducks gliding over its smooth surface. I looked over and saw some purple flowers and I saw the petals of one catch in the wind and land on the pond and slowly start to sink. Then it hit me. I have my inspiration. I began writing frantically, scratching out words and replacing them, letting the lyrical words flow from my mind to the notebook using my pen as my guide transcribing of thoughts. When I finished I was in a calm, satisfying reverie. I went home and that night I rewrote the piece, this time tweaking it to perfection and once I had read it to myself several times over, I typed and printed

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