Why did you first have the idea to become a writer? I could be wrong, but it was probably because you read a book that touched you so deeply, that pierced you to your core, that you thought, “Wouldn’t it be amazing to inspire this feeling in others?”
NaNoWriMo demands a sudden burst of high capacity creation—it’s like sprinting a marathon. This works for some people, but if you’re not one of them, don’t feel bad. Try leveling up instead.
When we read, we change our world, and we write because on some level, we want to do the same for others. Do you want to write something that affects others the way you were affected? Then you have to learn to read like a writer—with your brain turned on.
I was in the third grade when I received my first journal. And, while I couldn’t articulate at the time, that was when I discovered writing as mechanism to self-soothe. Writing helped me, and it still does.
But that doesn’t mean my journals are worth reading. When I’m journaling, I’m an “indulgent writer.”
We’re now knee-deep in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), the ambitious writer’s one-month sprint to 50,000 words.
Every year, hundreds of thousands of writers take on the challenge, and thousands succeed, saying adios to November with a first draft of a shiny new novel in tow.
It’s a truly amazing feat. But it’s not for everyone.
For a year and a half, I studied as a creative writing major at a tight-knit private university. I wrote poetry under the guidance of a published poet, learned how to develop a narrative arc, and attended readings by local authors.
Now, I’m a professional freelance writer and English major at a different school. But as I look back on my creative writing studies, I see many mistakes that I made (and that other students made, too).
