I am on a quest to become a "blogger." I don't know what has sparked this. Perhaps starting to write a bit again has brought some itch to the surface. I was reminded by something I heard a friend say a few years ago: "My fingers are possessed by the will to write." I used to be like that. Words were just so big and so powerful I couldn't contain them.
WHAT HAPPENED?
I think part of it was that I used to think poetry was my "thing." I've had this unfinished novel that has the potential to be great stuffed in a drawer for years with well over 200 pages written, but poetry was my forte. Or so I thought. Nothing like a poetry class to squash that dream. It's not that my teacher or even having to create in a structured environment stifled my creativity. Nothing just ever came, and I can honestly admit that my best piece of writing was a parody on the 3 little pigs that modernized the Big Bad Wolf to a 1920s gangster. And my sister was the one who thought of that idea (It turned out very good though I must admit...) Maybe it was because within that structured environment there were suddenly all these rules for what I had always viewed as a medium of free expression.
Yes, I know writing has rules and have learned some new ones over the years. Adverbs suck, write about what you know, most rhyming is cheesy unless you're a rapper then it's great (no, that's not right...). I understand. But ever since I began writing I was all about breaking the rules. Not in some attempt of fruitless rebellion against my junior high and high school english teachers. More than anything it was an effort to write how I speak. Formal, academic writing is a personal pet peeve. I use slang when I talk; I speak in fragments; why should I be a different person on paper than I am live? So this whole regimented poetry thing was just not for me.
On the other hand, I thrived in my Creative Nonfiction class. So awesome; take it if you get the chance at ASU - ENG 217. (Professor Camille Newton rocks). Writing about myself and my experiences was so easy and refreshing and being (almost) completely let loose while at the same time being equipped with so many new tools of expression - exhilarating. Even producing work that was not my best left me in awe of a freshly new discovered talent.
The problem is though, I don't want to just write. I want to be read. I kept a journal pretty religiously for 2010 and I still write down for myself my most private thoughts. But for goodness sakes, I want someone to read my material besides my husband and mom. So in an attempt to scratch this itch I'll blog obsessively about...random? Probably. Oh well.
I think this itch also has to do with the fact that I've decided to double major in Print Journalism and Education when I get to BYU. Hooray!
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