Writing... a gift and a curse.
When I was about nine years old, my grandmother asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. Unlike typical nine year olds, who wanted to be princesses or fairies, I was aiming high. I replied, "I want to be a lawyer and attend #Harvard law school."
Impressed by my reply, she reached into her purse and gave me one dollar. "It costs a lot of money to go there and you'll need to study hard. Here's your first dollar."
For awhile, I kept that dollar framed because I was determined on being a Harvard law school #lawyer. But as time went on, my life changed in one second more than some people see in an entire lifetime.
When I was 14, five little words would haunt me forever.
"You have a #brain tumor." After that, I no longer wanted to be a lawyer. My grades declined in school and concentrating on even the simplest tasks seemed impossible. Life would never be the same and I thought I would never amount to anything. To help with my roller coaster feelings, I started keeping a journal of what was happening to me... the brain surgery, the #seizures, the tests, all of it. It felt like an inescapable demon sent to torment me. I wondered what I had done to deserve something like this at only 14 years old. It hardly seemed fair. Only years later would I ever find out my purpose for all of it while I put on a smile and faked my happiness for everyone else, thought secretly I was hurting inside.
After graduating high school, I gained some respite when I married my high school sweetheart, who was truly an angel from heaven; I'm sure of it. After college, four kids, a lot of moving, more journals and writing, I was still trying to find my purpose to life as the seizures kept attacking and the doctors couldn't find a cure.
"Why don't we give you an alternative treatment?" they said when I asked for another brain surgery. I was told I wasn't eligible for another brain #surgery.
Under the knife again I went... only to find out their "treatment" wouldn't work and I would keep having seizures.
I began to question life, faith, hope, myself, and everything I knew. Until one day about 4 years ago, my husband's snoring kept me awake in the middle of the night. All those journals I'd used throughout the years gave me an idea...
I stayed up writing all night with hardly any sleep.
... and the next night.
... and the next night.
...and the next night.
...I started to wonder what was wrong with me. Why could I keep writing so much? Where were these ideas coming from? At the end of a few weeks, I had an entire novel. I never even realized I had it in myself to write a novel. Apparently, I'm a writer! I kept going! I just had the urge to keep writing.
I spoke to my neurologist and he told me of a man named Fyodor Dostoevsky and how he had the same type of epilepsy as me- Temporal lobe #epilepsy- and that it caused him to have a condition called hypergraphia. My #neurologist told me to consider the seizures a gift because I had found what many writers want: unstifled #writing. I kept writing more. The thoughts kept flowing and I now had to figure out how to turn a book into a published one. (Which was much harder than I knew and took me four years and a lot of editing to do!)
I suppose the reason I put all of this in explanation is because I never searched out becoming a writer; it found me/chose me. I believe it is the case for many amazing and great #authors.
I see too many people struggling to "become" great #writers, and to that I would say one thing: if you are struggling with your writing that much, perhaps writing isn't for you. Writing should be natural, not forced. Sure there are days when I have to sit and think "Hm.. what should I put here?" But I never struggle with my writing. I often find myself taking a walk and drifting into a world about my #characters. But if you're finding yourself #struggling with every aspect of your writing, from the dreaming up the characters to the final draft, I need to say that just because there's wattpad, doesn't mean that writing is for everyone. Just as quick as my grandma was to give me my first Harvard dollar doesn't mean that she should've. I would have made a terrible lawyer. I'm far better at writing.
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