And So, She Bled on the Paper

Why I write.

From early on, I always loved to put my thoughts on paper. Paper was my favorite toy. I would write loving notes to my mother and nana, maybe 10 times a day. I remember starting to write my first book, When I Was Eight – I thought, who better to reach out to other eight year olds, than an eight year old. But, then I turned nine and eight somehow seemed irrelevant. I remember writing a poem about my favorite tree; a willow that I lived in for most of my childhood, I recited it to my parents and grandparents in an attempted plea for it not to get cut down, but alas it did.

In my teenage years, I used writing as an outlet. I would write poetry in notebooks in my early teens and at 16 I began a journal that I still keep up to date. Actually, I started the journal when I was beginning to come out of my teenage darkness era, where I had become very disconnected with myself and my own inner conscious; I used the journal as a way for me to find my inner voice again.

As a young adult, my writing became more creative and developed. I began writing flash fiction, and started and did not finish many attempts at whole books. I started searching for stories and ideas, hoping to one day find the one.

Now I use writing in what feels like almost a full scope. I use it – it uses me - we use each other, in the best ways possible.

What inspires me to write is hard to explain. It is like it bubbles up inside of me, brewing and needing to escape. If I did not love it so much it would almost sound like an ailment. Like this disease, or compulsion that makes you put your thoughts on paper. Stories, or more like moments play in my head and then I chase around the words. The best and worst symptom of being a writer, at least for me, is over-thinking. I contemplate, I analyze, I ponder, wonder, fantasize, recollect, imagine, all the time. Sometimes its exhausting but releasing it on paper is one of the best feelings.

If I don’t write I get overwhelmed, almost. Restless even. Especially when I do not necessarily have something to write; writing about that feeling helps.

I love to write. I love the process from start to finish. The thinking, the ideas, the twists and turns, the finding out of what happened – when sometimes none of it really happened at all. I love journaling, writing horror, and writing fantasy-type fiction. I just love putting words one after another. I love searching for the words.

My blood runs hot and pumps for it, and I ache if don’t. I have these inside me and I want to share them, not everyone is going to love the stories that I write, but that doesn’t make them any less a story.

#Editions