When I was about 6 I wrote a little story about three princesses. I even drew cute little pictures.
When I was 12 I wrote a goosbumps-like story about friends going camping and a murder
When I was 16, 17, and 18 I wrote short stories and poems about smoking and sex and love, all things I had yet to experience.

Then I went to college, and my entire writing mind frame went to hell. Suddenly I was this small town girl coming to a huge culturally shocking university. I took writing classes. Real, scholarly writing classes taught be real, published authors. I took fiction writing classes, I took creative non-fiction writing classes. I even took every literary history class I could get my hands on. All of a sudden I was this girl sitting in a class with people who had talent oozing out of their pores. I couldn’t handle going from the girl who could write to the girl in a classroom full of people who could write better.

I didn’t start writing again until a month ago. I’ll be 22 in 20 days and I want to be a writer. I’ll read anything I can get my hands on, but I want to be the person responsible for the book you can’t put down. I want to see my name on the cover of a hardback. There are so few things I’ve ever wanted more than this, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with myself enough to really try. I’m writing any chance I get. I stay up late at night in bed making up dialogue between my characters in my head, then furiously typing out the ideas on my itouch or in the notes of my cell phone so I don’t forget. I’m completely obsessed and completely terrified that once I jump in someone is going to confirm my fears from my college classes: That I’m just not that talented.

So, I’m writing a book, it might end up being more than one. I’ve dumped about 10,000 words into my computer and can’t stop. It’s like the floodgates of hell just burst and all I can think about it this one dream that I’ve had my entire life. I’m just so damn afraid that this one big dream I have could come crashing down at any time. It’s not a secret that the world of publishing is cruel. I can handle criticism from those close to me, but getting rejected my an agent or publisher? an expert? I just don’t know. Maybe what I need to find is someone who isn’t quite an expect, but someone who can at least tell me if what I’m writing is crap or if it’s enough to go forward.

Big dreams from such a small town. I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but I think it’s going to have to be sink or swim now or I’ll never jump in.