Writing is easier than talking,
I’ve noticed the first words to any essay are always the hardest. They seem so intimidating, as if they're set in stone and they depict how the entire story plays out. It’s hard to start. Anything. I think it's the thought of the future work, commitment, maybe a fear of failure. It’s hard to start. But if that’s the hardest part, let's just do it. So here I am. Starting. I remember as a kid I used to google if people still read blogs, if they were still “cool” or on the bridge of now turning semi “un-cool”. Which still, could be very probable (Indy Blue is really holding down the fort). I’ve always loved writing, I may not be good at it, but I think if you love something so much it can still transpire into some peoples hearts somehow. And that’s really all I want to do.
I remember in pre-school I was so eager and determined to learn the spelling of my full name. I would practice every day after school until one day, I damn near did that damn thing. I couldn't have been more proud to know how to spell my name. In the moment, even then, I was fully aware that it was quite silly to be so happy to spell my name, considering “Amy” is just three simple letters. But it was finally something I could write! And right! But oh my god.. don’t even think for a second I was ready to spell my middle name too because “Elizabeth” was way too high of an unbearable mountain that I couldn’t even imagine overcoming just yet.
I was so intrigued with letters and words so much at such a young age. I remember so vividly trying to sound out a “Suave” shampoo bottle during one of my baths. My grandma had come to get me out of the tub and I said so confidently “I know how to spell shave!”. I’m guessing you know where I’m going with this. I was practically crushed when she giggled and said “No Amy, that’s Suave, not shave.” My 4 year old self was convinced I would never get anything right. Let alone my impractical, unbearably long ass middle name.
At the school book fairs (best time of year), I would always without a doubt come home with some kind of diary. They would have to have a key of course because an elementary school girls diary has to be TOP CONFIDENTIAL. Too many secrets for anybody to find out - by secrets I mean webkinz passwords. My mom one day took me to ToysRUs and gave me free reign to pick any one thing I wanted. You know what I was so eager to get? That diary where you had to speak aloud your password and it would only open to your voice. Yup, a totally normal toy for a kid allowed to choose literally anything. I had that for years until I of course forgot my password and somewhere along the way it had seemed to vanish into thin air. But that’s okay, because now we have my sister's old (ancient) MacBook hamidown. And dozens of random notebooks and journals always floating around with thoughts in them everywhere, courtesy of my many Staples gift cards I would ask for as gifts. (Still very not normal for any kid at any age to be recreationally buying school supplies).
Now that we had a form of technology to start writing on, things got more practical. Because you can’t just lose google docs into thin air. I mean maybe the cloud is technically thin air but who knows what that thing even is. If you’re in my life and I really care about you, you have probably gotten some form of letter from me expressing all my gratitude and love. For my friend’s birthdays I would stay up all night and write them letters for their gift. Things would get emotional, sometimes my own words would make me cry all night for no reason. I would wake up for school the next morning with (extra) huge and puffy eyes trying to act normal. But that’s just how I express myself. I find it so much easier to tell someone how I’m feeling through written words rather than spoken. It’s the only way I can truly put my guard down and be vulnerable. And when I say this I mean I was still 19 years old and writing letters just to my dad to tell him how I was feeling, instead of just talking to the man three feet away from me. The same words just won't come out if I’m not writing them. And I trust my written words far more.
In the fifth grade, my favorite class was Writer’s workshop. We were working on a creative writing assignment, practicing imagery and adjectives. I had gotten so in the zone I finished my writing so fast and was so proud. I still remember the story to this day. My teacher had read it aloud to the class as an example, and it was so loved it was hung up in our main hallway for weeks. That was the first moment where I felt like writing could actually be my thing. I’m good at it, and other people think so too. That confidence didn’t last long.
I think I never started because of that last option earlier, the fear part. What if my writing was actually complete trash and I was just in my own world thinking anyone could ever find me interesting. Who am I and why would anyone want to read this? (I literally have an essay from when I was 15 beginning with “I mean who even will listen to me, I’m a 15 year old girl who knows nothing”). What if my words don’t even make sense? I’ve actually been told they don’t make sense. Yes, I may have recently just embraced my writing again, and only just allowed it to enter itself into my identity, but not that many people in my close world know about it. They know I journal, but that seems a little goofy and unserious to them. But like I said it's intimidating. My sister is brilliant and knows every grammatical rule ever and just everything for some reason, so there’s a low chance she’d think my writing is any bit clever or interesting. My mom was a former paralegal, (and quite good at twisting words around) so she also knows way too much about the use of words. And my dad is an English teacher, he was even my English teacher junior year. Words are literally his living. He studies writing all day, all year long. The thought of ever allowing any of them room to read or judge my writing is terrifying. Granted, I fully acknowledge this is no one’s faults except my own, and that stupid little purple guy in my brain Inside Out has named Fear.
But, sometimes Ladies and Gentlemen… we have to stop thinking and start doing. Writing is something I love to do, and have always felt in my safe place and element doing. I don’t have to be good, and I don’t have to pretend to think I’m good. I can just write. I mean after all words are just words right. It’s like an art. It’s subjective. So feel free to go on this journey with me and read along. But don’t think I’m any good or anything.