Although I am one to tell others that writing is an activity that I both enjoy and find useful, I am also one that struggles with actually committing thoughts to written words. First I must confess that if someone were to inquire about my writing ability I would claim “I am a fine writer, quite decent in fact.” In reality there is very little physical evidence to support this claim except, perhaps, a few essays and bits of odds and ends from random free-writes and the occasional research project. (I also fear that these works would show only my weaknesses). While I often will attribute my mediocrity to laziness or some other diversion, it has become more a matter of experience and of discipline.
While in high school, senior year AP English class in particular, writing essays never seemed ‘easy’ to me. Often I would struggle with the wording rather than the ideas themselves (a point I touched upon earlier). Writer’s block often befell my late night writing forays while in the middle of the first paragraph if not during the first sentence. Pavlov would remind me that this should have made me hate writing rather than make me like it. These fruitless ventures into writing have only grown less productive now that I am in college and have taken a science-heavy course load.
While I have dreamt of writing novels and rue essays, such lofty aspirations have never come to fruition in even the most minimal sense. To dedicate your time and, truly, a piece of your soul for such an endeavor would require a passion I have seldom experienced.