Writing For Me

Writing Challenge: Writerly Reflections

Every now and then, images of my childhood flash through my head and anxiety grips me for a second. The most precious thing though is the feeling that comes with the images. I can’t describe it, but it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. πŸ™‚
I used to tell people before that the number of books I’d read between age 5-25 were more than what some people my age would read in their lifetime. This was just to buttress how much I loved to read and still do.
My first reading challenges were the books in my Phonics Factory box; 3 Steps Ahead. I learnt to read it after my mum had read it to me several times.

One word that I found hard to pronounce at the time was ‘slippery’, but after my mum pronounced it for me once or twice I never forgot it.
I played with Dr. Seuss too. He guided me through a world of rhyming words and unique diction as seen in the book, ‘In A People House’. I always wondered how that sentence made sense. :p
On of the first novels I read, as did a lot of people, is The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.
Narnia was a place I wished was real. I half expected a door to appear somewhere and lead me to that fictional place. Lol.
The beauty in reading this particular C. S. Lewis masterpiece is that you can’t help but visualize it as you read along. In the middle of my reading I would lift my head up and immediately wonder where the movie I was watching went to. πŸ™‚ It was that magical.
I gobbled up books as I saw them. Sidney Sheldon’s Memories of Midnight crossed my path when I was in the fourth grade (Primary 4). Mama said, “that book is too big for you” and she hid it. I found it and read it, but didn’t make much sense of it till years later.
In high school I started putting pen to paper; writing my feelings down. I went to boarding school, leaving hfirst tim. It was hell. The death of my father began to hurt me the more and I started running a list of ‘what ifs’. My cousins found it and destroyed the book, but that didn’t stop me from writing. I just moved away from the darkness a little. πŸ™‚
My first book, which is still far from complete, was a mixture of my fantasies and fiction. About a teenage girl growing up with childhood friends, family and her attraction to a guy… Blah, blah, blah. Typical right? Surprisingly though, it is my first fictional writing and probably my only one. Two friends read it back then in the 9th grade and they kept asking me when I was gonna finish it. Sadly, I never did.


Now, I’m here. I started this blog when my friend Bedari berated me for writing my thoughts out for the world to see. I used Facebook to vent and he said it was a very bad idea. People could latch on to any of my moods and prey on my vulnerability. This got me thinking deeply and I decided to start up a blog as my way of healing myself, learning from mistakes, opening up about myself and getting to read from awesome people.
As long as I live and breathe, I will write. My inspiration comes from my life. The need to write is innate, part of my natural programming. From the shortest thought to the detailed essay. I have to scribble something down.
I look forward to being published someday. After garnering the right tools to make my writing the best, but for now I’m content just writing for myself.


6 thoughts on “Writing For Me

  1. Sometimes I get scared myself that people will see too much into me if I write about my life and feelings… but over time, ‘ve come to realise that the beauty of writing lies in the ability to tell what you feel the way you want to. And the world is then at liberty to make as much meaning as they will of what we write. Damn, the possibilities are endless… heheh.

    Writing is healing, and I think the more truth we put into the art, the better and faster we heal.

    Welldone! Your posts are engaging! πŸ™‚


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