My Writing Experience

Growing up, I detested writing. I found it to be tedious and boring. But reading, I loved. I would read a book a day, a series in a week. My best friend and I had our own “book club”. At these meetings we would discuss our favorite books, discover new books to read, and eat chocolate chip cookies. By fourth grade I was reading Twilight, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games. My dislike for writing grew only stronger due to several teachers that religiously taught grammar rules and easy vocabulary. I wasn’t getting any opportunities at school to write creatively. I was bored with writing and dreaded doing essays.

The summer before sixth grade my only book club member and best friend, whom I spent my days with moved to South Carolina. As any preteen girl would be, I was completely and utterly devastated. We dramatically cried about the distance added to our friendship, our parents suggesting we write to each other and visit during school breaks. At first, the email accounts we set up together were unused and no letters came. Why would we write when we could just text? But, after over sixty dollars each spent on glittery stationary and gel pens and stickers the letters started coming. I

Only writing to one person wasn’t enough to satiate my new-found love for writing. I started leaving notes and short stories scattered around my house for my parents to find. Letters were sent to friends, grandparents, and cousins. I started to enjoy writing in and out of school. In seventh grade I had my first English teacher whom I genuinely liked. That same year my dad spent three months living in Washington DC for work. He became another regular recipient of my letters. Writing kept me close to my family and friends that I couldn’t see every day. Seventh grade year was the beginning of a steady incline of my writing ability. I attribute my writing skills to the frequent practice gained from writing