My ode to writing
- Everyday Good Stuff -
WRITING has always been a cathartic experience for me. It started when I was about seven. I was extremely shy and did not take to making new friends easily. Alone time was wonderful to me — I could draw in my little corner without interruption, daydream about being a doctor or actress while I gazed out our living room window. Because I didn’t talk much, there were a lot of emotions unexpressed within me. Drawings didn’t cut it. So I turned to words.
There were blank sheets of paper before me that one day. I took a pen and began writing. Days passed and I filled many sheets of papers with poems and illustrated stories. My Mom delighted in my new hobby and brought home scratch paper from work. I filled the papers with short stories, haikus, limericks. I felt free.
How did a 7-year-old find freedom in words? My parents regaled me with stories from their childhood, fairy tales and stories they made up themselves. By example, they taught me the beauty of reading and how it’s a fantastic playground for the imagination. Our household help shared stories of the provinces they came from. My younger sisters and I played a lot of pretend with our Barbie dolls. There were so many stories all around me. I wanted to create my own. I wrote about butterflies and fairies, little sisters, a guy eating the buttons of his shirt. I wrote and wrote and wrote. It felt good seeing my childlike daydreams come to life in words.









