Saturday, 20 September 2014

Why I write?


The last two weeks of my life have kinda been crazy hectic. So, I've had 9 weeks off for summer and I have been doing a lot of lazying around and watching Netflix, returning to college was a major hit to my body. I'm absolutely exhausted, getting up a couple of days a week at 6am, leaving the house by 7am and getting home at 6 in the evening. Too much public transport and not enough sleep. Despite the awful early starts, I am really enjoying college. I'm studying 3 English subjects: English Literature, English Language and Creative Writing. You can tell I like books and writing right? In fact, somebody said to me today "I bet you read dictionaries before you go to sleep" 

I began my Creative Writing course for the first time 2 weeks ago and I friggin' love it. I love it so much that I'm going to start sharing things I've written. 

Here's the first one.

Why Do I Like To Write?

I like to write because I want to entertain people. There's nothing better than somebody reading my writing and telling me they enjoyed it, although it makes me nervous. I want to leave a mark on the reader. I want the reader to remember what I said. 
Writing brings me comfort. A comfort that nothing else can bring me. Writing my thoughts down is a coping mechanism for me. Maybe if I'm feeling down or alone, a piece (or pieces) of paper and a pen soothe my worries. I feel better after writing. I feel as if the paper listens to me and understands. It's my best friend.
Whether I write in my journal or on my blog about my day out in London. It's a remedy. Late at night, I think. I think too much. I have to get out of bed and write. Sometimes, even half way through the night, if I wake up and remember a dream, I have to write it down. 
As a child, I remember filling notepad after notepad. They were often full of magical, out of this world short stories. I wish I knew what happened to them. Are they in my loft? Or did they get chucked in the bin? I'll have to make it a little adventure and find these stories. The mind of an 8 or 9 year old Brianna. I wonder if I'd laugh or cringe.