Personal Narrative: My Relationship With Writing

I don’t really like writing because whenever my teacher tells me to write about something I start to get confused on what to say then I start to get mad at myself and start to cry.The best thing I have ever written is when I had to wrote about legos, it was a nine pages and alot idioms and more.

My mind can never be quieted. I am constantly thinking of moments or ideas or fantasies. What is all this dreaming worth if I cannot share it with the world? That is why I have gone on a quest to find an outlet for my thoughts. It has not been a process that has been traversed with ease, but through this journey, I have found many pastimes that have helped form my thoughts and beliefs.

In my first “Who I am as a Writer” paper I stated how one of the areas that I needed to improve was writing. I went into more depth talking about how my writing is not descriptive enough and how I cannot grab the reader's attention. Even though I still need to continue making improvements, I have gotten better in both of these aspects. Compared to my papers in high school my introduction paragraphs have improved.

I love to write. It’s actually where I feel most creative. However, I don’t love to write. It is my belief that composing documents by typing them is unquestionably easier and more efficient. When one physically writes, they typically tire easily. For me, it’s usually at five sentences or so when my hand starts to cramp up. At that point, I begin to compromise in my writing, trying to get to my point as quickly as possible, so that I can just get it over with. I also find that I’m a planner when writing. I can have a whole paragraph mapped out in my head before even starting it. However, when I have to slowly and painstakingly compose with a pen or pencil, I lose many of the ideas I had going into it, and again, just want to get it over with.

The other reason that makes me feel uncomfortable about writing is that what if somebody read my papers and they will laugh at me because of my bad grammars and stupid ideas. I always find it’s so embarrassing to share my papers to others, even to my teachers. However, I don’t mind my teachers that much. At least I always turn in my best work to my teachers, even if they’re bad, they’re still my effort. Despite that fact, there was a time when I was in 11th grade that I was really disappointed in my teacher. She was a student teacher. She was nice and friendly, everyone liked her, included me. But it was this one thing she did that made me feel uncertain about my feeling for her. Whenever we were in computer lab and typing essays, she always

It is always complicated writing and expressing in a language that is different from mine. I most of the time have an idea that I want to write about, but I know the difficulties that I am going to face while writing such as having mistakes in grammar structures, or maybe not knowing how to basically order my idea in the right way to let the reader grasp it easily.

I love to write. Writing for me comes naturally; as I have been doing it for as long as I can remember. My first strength, when it comes to writing, is that I have a mind full of things to unleash upon the world. However, that particular strength can become a weakness because it causes the bad habit of rambling away from a chosen topic. My second strength is that I love writing; love it so much that I have written and published a science fiction book. On the other hand, my greatest weakness is formatting my writing to adhere to academic standards. As a result, my work sometimes gets too personal and mimics my love of writing science fiction. As was previously stated,

As my mother and I were driving on a horrendously windy day, I howled something that was incomprehensible. She stopped the vehicle in bewilderment and outrage, and immediately questioned me for the reasoning of this action. All I could do was stand and point in awe of what I was witnessing. She immediately discovered the bird too, just sitting in a long-dead cornfield. The ruckus startled the Bald Eagle, and began to fly away. My mother attempted to draw out her phone to take a picture of the beautiful bird, only to lose control of the device, dropping it on the vehicle’s floor. The marvelous bird flew directly above our vehicle, merely feet away, leaving me to this day striving to understand and appreciate all this country has provided me.

My experience as a writer although I need a lot more practice to become better at writing in general and learn how to be detailed with my information correctly. I would say my strength in writing will be knowing the subject on what I would want to write, but once I'm typing all of it down I over think and then does not make sense at all. For example, I get a topic talking about dogs and have to describe how they live, eat, etc. Like that topic is easier than doing one about a scientific method and at the end it helps because you learn a new topic about a subject you might have not known about. Overall, my strength would be knowing what to write about but my weakness is not knowing how to put it in a essay. What I have read affects how I write

Dixie: I found this to be of interest to me because if I don’t write something down right away then I forget it to. I am going to have to try your method. I think that your way of doing this is a good way. I forced myself to set down and daydreamed and think that it was really hard to write something. I panicked about what I was going to write.

Ever since I was little, I remembered going into the main office to read stories to the secretaries. I loved reading and writing stories for others to enjoy. As I kept writing for school and eventually in the teen section of the local newspaper I realized the duty of a writer- to inform and influence. With this responsibility comes decisiveness and the determination to write in truth. The significance of our diction emulates our character and the society we want to live in.

A familiar yet annoying sound snaps me awake. My alarms going off, time to go through another day. I’ve got a math test in 7th period. That reminds me. The last day to send the email has come. Today is the day. All the work I have done will finally pay off. All I must do is send the email. That is all that is left, sending an email. An email is all that is left.

Sunday. I live right next to the old town Pasadena, so I guess it is better for me just walk to the old town, and to do my writing class assignment. I grabbed my white shirt, black cap and most importantly, my notebook. I started walking from my apartment.

“Thank you.” The classroom is stiflingly quiet except for those two soft words. We clap as she returns to her seat, fumbling with her phone to stop the timer. A lull settles as we wait for the next victim. My hands are already trembling when I realize that I’m next on the chopping block.

My interest in writing started when I began writing articles for the Milken Roar, an online student-run publication. After a year as a Staff Writer, I became the Roar’s Spotlight Editor. As Spotlight Editor, I helped to create the “Humans of Milken” section, based off of the popular “Humans of New York” Facebook page. While the Milken Roar started as a newspaper, it eventually became a platform for opinion pieces and short stories. The summer going into 11th grade, I took a two week long Journalism class at Boston University. Senior year I enrolled in H Fiction & Poetry, an English class that focuses on student production of short stories and poems.