On How I Started Writing and Why I Write

A good thing to discuss! I have read on why authors write and how they started, so I thought I might as well write about it.

How it all started: I first discovered my talent when I was right around three or four. My inspiration was from the old BBC TV movies of the Chronicles of Narnia. I was obsessed with them, and I loved fantasy so much that I wanted to make up my own. I had no idea that I would become an author. So I wrote a book that took place in old time England, before there were humans. It was about a unicorn named James, who was the leader of a herd of unicorns. There was an evil dragon murdering other unicorns, and some of the dead unicorns' souls were being trapped in limbo; among them was James' sister, Lizabeth. So James went on a vengeance mission and had an epic battle with the dragon. There were illustrations, the grammar and spelling was atrocious, but I had such a good time. It took me a week to write it. I stapled the pieces of copy paper together and showed my parents. Dad read it and said, 'where the heck did you learn how to write like this?'

As the years progressed, I delved deeper into my exciting newfound talent. I wrote a series of adventures about a man named Andy and his magic purple dog, Wally. I wrote fanfictions on 'The Last Airbender', 'SpongeBob SquarePants', 'The Chronicles of Narnia', and 'The Lord of the Rings'. It wasn't until I was eight that I started writing a hard-core fantasy that involved much use of magic, a girl with strange powers, a grumpy wizard who looked like George Peppard, lost kings, a dragon, and an evil sorceress who manipulated people. That was also when I realized I had talent with poetry. I was seen writing it at the old school I went to during recess rather than playing with the other kids. I was mocked by the other kids of writing, saying 'only people like J.K. Rowling can write books, you'll never go anywhere'. I was accused of copying my poetry from other people's works by my teachers. I was told not to hope to get a book published; I'd never make anything from it. So for almost four years, I stopped writing.

I progressed into my preteen years. I got depressed a lot, and started writing a diary. Then I made things up. I came up with a story, and I began writing it. I realized I was depressed because I wasn't writing. I wrote whenever I could: on drives, even when I got headaches; at night, when I was supposed to be asleep; waiting at the dentist's or the doctor's office; climbing a tree at my grandparent's house to get away from company so I could write in private. My older brother mocked me and said I'd end up committing suicide because I'd never get a book published; he said I would die penniless and depressed. I did get depressed, so I ignored him and wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

I once started writing a book about another male unicorn named Apollo (I eventually got a doll unicorn and named him Apollo; most of my books were about animals) when I was eleven. I brought it, in its notebook, to my grandmother's house, and left it on the sofa to go to the bathroom. When I came back, it was gone, and I began to panic. I found my grandmother reading it. With a yelp, I rather rudely snatched it from her hands (I had learned that showing someone a rough draft is like standing in front of them naked). But my grandmother smiled and said it was one of the most creative books she had ever been reading, and she gave me a pen to continue writing it. Man. I liked that pen.

When I was twelve I got into historical fiction, specifically WWII. I failed mostly, though. So I reverted back to fanfictions, and realized I hated them with a burning passion. I burned all the fanfictions I ever wrote. I don't regret it.

My older brother continued to mock me. He once stole one of my notebooks and started reading the story aloud in front of the rest of my siblings. I remember punching him and then getting in trouble. He never got punished.

When I was twelve I realized I had possible talent with drawing. I started with Manga, which was my stepping stool. Or course, I was terrible, but then I realized: I could draw how I see my characters. That got me excited; it was a great way to promote my stories! It helped me get excited to write more.
I could always confide in my sister; she helped me, and still does. I can tell her my writing woes, passions, excitements...anything. She's a great friend and helper.

So often, I go around with my head down because I think so hard about what to write. People think I'm moping all the time. I once bumped into my dad because I was thinking so hard that I didn't realize where I was going. He thought I was trying to shove him. I tried to explain that I didn't do that, but I mean, how silly would it sound if I answered 'sorry, one of my characters is going to die and I'm planning on his death'?. So I try as hard as I can to avoid situations like that. I don't think a lot of people understand the writing life and the deep recesses of the author's complex mind....yeah.

Why I write:
#1 Reason: I write to stay alive. It kills me when I can't write. I get moody and depressed when I have writer's block.
#2 Reason: I feel that writing helps me cope with my realities. My characters are my friends whose problems I can share. Writing gives me something to think about when I'm on a boring drive.
#3 Reason: And damn is it fun! Hard, but fun! Creating characters, worlds, stories, problems, solving them.....

I write because it is a part of me. I write because I like connecting with my characters and sharing in everything they do (including the villains).

An additional word:
I encourage all of you writers to draw! Even if you aren't good, or you're practicing, draw your characters! Draw maps and buildings and all that. It helps your creativity leak out when you have writer's block. It sure helps me get over writer's block.

Keep on writing!