Back in grade school and high school, I feared English and Writing. We always had this period devoted to writing an essay. Given an hour and a half, we have to complete an essay about a particular topic our teacher would propose. I always dreaded this day. I remember having a lot of ideas and thoughts in mind, but I was confused with grammar. I could not differentiate there, their, and they’re, nor were, we’re, and wear and where. When to use is or are when the subject is you. Even if I thought I had a brilliant idea in mind, it always takes me 3o minutes before I get started because my grammar was always unpredictable, and I had to write in a scratch paper before finalizing everything. I hated writing day. It always pressured me.
While I hated writing, my love for reading was growing exponentially. Reading was something personal. No one had to see me read, nor judge my reading, so I took pleasure in going to different worlds and fantasies through reading. But also as a growing adolescent, with my emotions always at my forefront, I discovered poetry and how it can beautifully express my emotions. I like how simple thoughts can be delivered in metaphors and similes, in hyperboles and irony. I thought I was intelligent when I’m able to decipher the meaning of poems or metaphors in a song. Until I tried writing poems myself. I thought, this was a start to writing. To me, then, poetry didn’t have to rhyme, no structure, but just a free-flowing art of words and verses.
I never had confidence in my own writing, and the only reader I knew who was proud of what I wrote was my dad. He always said the content of what I wrote was always deep and that he couldn’t understand it. As I grew older and read back on what I wrote before, I realized the only reason he couldn’t understand them was because they were incoherent and poor in structure, but they had seemingly deep meaning in them. Until I discovered blogging, and realized, as long as there’s an idea to share, it’s always worth trying to put it in words and in writing.
There’s a bit of structure to learn basic writing, and a whole lot of rules to discover if I were to take it seriously. The correct form, syntax, and grammar, comes with practice, correction from people, and from a lot of reading. I am not an English major, nor have I mastered in Creative Writing, but there’s just a lot of beauty in words waiting to be discovered — I can’t just stop writing. Not now. Not when ideas and experiences are only starting to come my way.