Writing has been a part of me from the moment I learned to spell my very first word. I drew picture books as a child, labelling each page with a single word or phrase (with imperfect spelling, of course) as I tried to tell the stories in my mind. Oftentimes, those stories were rehashed and regurgitated versions of all my favorite fairy tales. At other times, the works were original – a combination of a rambling, childlike mind and the unique perspectives my minority upbringing offered.
Then adolescence came along. Romance fiction swept me off my feet, rode me off to the sunset, and absolutely refused to let me go.
It’s been a thrilling journey ever since.
From writing fanfiction to getting published, from scribbling in my notebook to typing thousands of words a day – writing has gradually, resolutely grafted itself into my skin and become part of my living, breathing DNA day in and day out.
I still write for fun. I’m not making a single cent from this blog, for one. As I approach thirty, that ever-so-subtle deadline for a quarter-life crisis, I know there’s not going to be anywhere else I can turn.
I write because I can. I write because I love it. I write because it is an indelible part of who I am.
I guess that’s what life callings are made of.