Why I Have Hated Writing For So Many Years?

Prior to my development of routine introspection and, consequently, maturation, I wrote not to encapsulate my ever-growing discomfort towards life, but rather to gain praise and acknowledgement for my efforts in writing. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I sat on the floor of my kindergarten classroom criss-cross applesauce-style as my teacher, Mrs. Glickman, asked the class to write a short story and to provide an illustration to accompany it. With smudged and disorderly speckles of graphite sprawled across my paper, I managed to write a story in my signature chicken-scratch handwriting. The story was relatively simple, about a girl who had thought she was a hideous monster until she looked into a river reflection and realized she was beautiful. I even drew (or attempted to draw) a beautiful girl for the second part of the assignment. At the next school assembly, Mrs. Glickman granted me a sky-colored paper, reading “Award of Recognition: Kiana Lucin, for her creative writing and exemplary drawing skills.” From this point on, I prided myself in writing, and excelled

When presented with the question, “who are you as a writer?”, I was speechless at first. But after thinking about it, I realized who I am as a writer has been influenced by so many different sponsors throughout my life and there was not a short, concrete answer. Brandt mentions that “literacy is sponsored by people, institutions, and circumstances that both make it possible for a person to become literate and shape the way the person actually acquires literacy.” (Brandt 43) My attitude towards writing has been influenced by teachers, both negatively and positively, by my mother, and by academic assignments over the years. My answer to the question can only be answered by a narrative of my writing life. I have convinced myself that I am a terrible writer, and when presented with a writing assignment, I get anxious instantly. I see writing as a burden and a huge obstacle that gets placed in my life. Academic writing is not fun, but something I value due to the fact that we are a grade driven society. When writing, I write to the guidelines in order to receive points for the requested criteria. The reason being, I gave up on expressing my own ideas because I had been shut down by so many teachers throughout my education. I tried to write down what came to my mind and put my own twist on things, but that was not the “right” way to write papers. In order to make both my teachers and my grades happy, I wrote what they wanted to hear, and even then I was not to the level they

From the time I was in about fourth or fifth grade I began to dislike certain subjects in school. I loathed everything about writing assignments. I didn’t write at home before that the thought of writing for myself never really occurred to me. I hated the deadlines the length requirements and I just tried to get them done and had no intention of writing well because I told myself I was a bad writer. I have never really known whether or not I truly am a bad writer. I continued these habits of just writing something down to get a decent grade all throughout school. I usually got an okay grade because I followed the prompt closely and did the minimum amount of work for the paper. I didn’t start the assignments until either the night before it was due. As I got older I would type the paper on my phone in school that day then print it off in the library moments before class. I continued writing in that awful ritual of complacency until the end of 11th grade. We had to write a paper on The Great Gatsby a book that I never read. I read couple of notes on the internet and then wrote the paper and never reread it or edited it all. I did my usual routine and followed the prompt and turned my paper in. When I got my paper back I was shocked to find out I didn’t get even a half decent grade I was given a zero. I went to my teacher after class to speak with him about the grade and he told me I got the grade that I deserved. He said I was lazy and never tried to truly work in

“The Novice as Expert: Writing the Freshman Year” reflected my writing experience while I transitioned from elementary writer to a critical writer. Sommers and Saltz write, “freshmen need to see themselves as novice in a world that demands ‘something more and deeper’ from their writing than high school” (Sommers and Saltz 134). This line highlights the hardship that most students face when trying to write successfully. My earlier written works were much weaker than my current pieces because I often wrote for the sake of passing the class. While developing my writing, I focused on the new ideas that were introduced rather than limiting my argument to familiar techniques and ideas. Because of my new attitude towards writing, I began to demand

I 've always liked writing. Even before I knew how to write I would make up stories and pretend to write them down. Each year in high school I 've written a multitude of essays on varying topics. I have selected three of these writings from each of my years in high school to examine as part of this rhetorical analysis of my writing history. As I 've grown older, my writing style has changed and I 've learned more about the world and developed my own personal writing voice more and more.

I hate creative writing! I used to have an affection to write all the time, but now it just doesn’t give me pleasure anymore. Also, the books that I get from the class are horrendous too. It’s extremely tough to read a book when it doesn’t even excite anyone at all! reading and writing is exceptional when the writer, that is yourself, comes up with the idea, and your thoughts matter. But now review me, I’m forced to read an irrelevant book about a pathetic guy, and I’m writing about foolish Dylan Montgomery who thinks I’m broken! I’ve lose respect for something that I love to create

It wasn’t until this class, where I was told that I was not being asked to explain in great detail what has shaped me into this amazing writer that I am today, but instead to explain what type of writing I feel comfortable with. At that point I realized that this assignment may not be quite as difficult as I thought.

I hate writing. It is one of the simplest task because it is like talking but it creates so much stress for myself. I would rather be pulling all the hairs off my body strand by strand then sit down and write. Even the thought of having to sit down and write makes my stomach tense. It is not like I am hiding behind the fact that I hate writing to avoid doing this assignment. This assignment is one of the easiest prompts that I have been given in my educational career but I have such a high expectation that my writing must be a “perfect”. My writing must be wonderful, flawless, and beautiful. When my writing is best compared to a pile of garbage. The comparison might seem extreme but its sadly true.

We are gonna start this paper off easy I’m just gonna say I hate writing. I have never enjoyed writing I have never been good at it either. For me writing has always been something that takes what seems like forever to be able to finish but then still be able to do bad on it or get a bad grade. I quickly learned about this in college prep writing. I have never been good at writing either there is just so much about it I don’t understand or am good at. I have struggled with commas and spelling for about as long as I can remember, but there is a new problem that is starting to show up more and more as I get older and that is trying to make yourself sound smart by using new vocabulary words or phrases. This makes it that if you say I like dogs

Okay, the time had come. I must sign up for a University Writing Program (UWP) class at the University of California, Davis, a requirement I greatly feared. I pushed back signing up for the class until my last a final quarter as a student because I thought to myself, “I am a horrible writer!” Being able to put my thoughts into words onto paper purposed a struggle. Therefore, I organized my classes where I would be able to dedicate a lot of time to my UWP class because I knew I would need it.

At a younger age, I never truly appreciated reading and writing for what it was, not until now. I could never find a reason to read or write because I always thought it was a waste of time. It didn’t help that both my parents never finished school, so I didn't really have someone to help in that department either but, as school and life began progressing at an unfair rate, I soon realized how I was overshadowed from other students because I couldn’t read or write at their rate or even compare with the vocabulary they maintained. But, once I did begin to read more thoroughly and write more constantly, I noticed change with myself. The demeanor I once had left and my grades started improving. It was far from easy since, there are words that just

This story is about how my reading and writing changed throughout my life going through school. When I started in kindergarten I couldn’t spell my name that well. I had trouble reading and writing, and it took me so long to understand what I was doing wrong because I’m a person that thinks that I’m always right and never wrong. As I went through elementary school, I had a problem with writing neatly, writing in complete sentences, and reading big words. When I was in elementary school I was a student that didn’t like to write during unless it was about something that interested me. Other than that the only time I wrote was when I was required to for school. As each of those five years went by I hated writing in a way, but I hated reading even more with each year that went by. The reason I hated writing during elementary school so much was because

While reading over the prompt for this writing assignment, before I actually even sat down and gave it good thought, I had an epiphany! My favorite quote seemed to fit into my life a little bit more- through my English! A wises man known as Joel Osteen once said, “You can change your world by changing your words.. Remember, death and life are all power of the tongue.” Meanwhile giving thought into “who I am as a writer,” something finally dawned onto me. I often find it difficult to express myself or to even find the right words to begin to. I try my hardest to put interest into all of my writing, for I feel as if that is when I do my best work. But, overall, I truthfully find writing very strenuous. What intrigues me is that I was not always this way. During my sixth grade year I found a love for writing poetry, (I will forever thank Mrs. Shaffer for the simple “Simile Poem” assignment). Somewhere between the summer before seventh grade, and mid year I had lost interest. May it be due to the exhausting poetry unit we endeavored that year, or just simply I developed this so called “writers block,” I have yet to find out.

I walked into my first day of 6th grade English class greeted by a young woman with a voice that easily filled the entire classroom. I listened intently as my English teacher introduced herself and enthusiastically described all the creative assignments that were awaiting us. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I excitedly thought to myself that this was going to be a great teacher who challenged me. After all, writing was one of my passions as evidenced by the endless notebooks and scraps of paper that blanketed my bedroom. As the first few days unfolded I was optimistic and excited. That was until the work began.

Writing has always been something I dread. It’s weird because I love talking and telling stories, but the moment I have to write it all down on paper, I become frantic. It’s almost as if a horse race just begun in my mind, with hundreds of horses, or words, running through my mind, unable to place them in chronological order. Because I struggle to form satisfying sentence structure, it takes me hours, sometimes even days, to write one paper. It’s not that I think I’m a “bad writer,” I just get discouraged easily. Needless to say, I don’t think highly of my writing skills. When I was little I loved to both read and write. I read just about any book I could get my hands on, and my journal was my go to for my daily adventures. Although it’s