Losing Fear of Writing

At this point, I am the equivalent to a broken record when I say “writing is not my strong suit”. I am not sure if it is the act of or the thought process needed that discourages me but I do not like writing. Additionally, I have never been confident or proud of my pieces which was apparent. Teachers would continuously make comments about how my essays were formatted correctly but lacked attention capturing content. Besides their remarks, I would be given a high grade which left me unsatisfied and yearning for improvement. Over this quarter I have learned to write honestly about private topics and to put a halt to my mentality of only writing in essay format. These are two major steps forward to being the writer I want to be.

With “Post-War Zone” and “Why I Care”, a new mindset brought a deeper sense of connection. Until recently, I have never considered how out-of-classroom experiences affected my writing styles.  This has been my first quarter as a freshman in college, in an all new setting, meeting all new people, and having all new experiences. Due to my new living and schooling circumstances, I have been challenging myself to travel beyond my comfort zone in order to become fully immersed. Extending this mindset into my writings has proved to be beneficial. I have allowed myself to write about my most closeted events and feelings openly. By doing so, my attachment to those two specific pieces is stronger than any writings I have done before. With this new found confidence, I feel that I can now be proud of my writings.

            During these past ten weeks, I was able to break the academic writing style that held me back from the general progress I needed. “Concert Anticipation” is the one piece that forced me to think and write in a way I have not done before. I have never had a writing assignment quite like this one. By choosing to write about one of my favorite topics, I thought it would make the writing process trouble-free. My tactic made for some ease but I quickly came to the conclusion that my thought process was wrong. Even with the instructions, I still felt I needed to write well thought out sentences in an organized manner. I began to type anything that came to mind related to concerts. Once I started to just write, I found this piece to be fun which is something I am not used to writing being. With this new found enjoyment, I began to think about different variations of sentences. The limitation of six word sentences contributed to putting an end to the restrictions I had placed on myself.

Fortunately, from these three pieces, I would have difficulty picking which I favor the most. Since I am known for my overbearing modest attitude, I feel deserving to say: “Post-War Zone”, “Concert Anticipation”, and “Why I Care” are three of my best writings so far in my academic career. By throwing away the constraints of essay writing styles and by allowing myself to journey past my comfort levels, I have lost the fear I associated with writing.

Post-War Zone

Original

     Notebooks opened to lengthy notes. Packets of paper scattered with random highlighted lines. Empty bottles of water here are there. A large plate with half eaten snacks laid on top of the piles of paper. My hair was in a knotty, unmanageable top bun. I was still in my froyo stained and bleach smelling work clothes. I had completely made my dining room a post-war zone of homework. Tonight I had to manage the store and lock up causing me to not get home till close to 12 on a school night. The pressure of being in high school and being a manager had finally hit. Everyone was impressed by how I was able to cope with having a part time job and still keep up my grades in school. All of the praise had gave me a false sense of having to continue the good work and not take a break for myself. The stress hit me like a ton of bricks which led to me having a small breakdown. I have always been a strong person with the ability to keep myself together so it hurt my family when they saw me crying and freaking out. My mother couldn’t handle seeing me in that state which caused her to also become upset. She told me that I needed a break but I knew I had to get my work done. That night I stayed up till the early hours of the morning and still went to school the next day with dark circles and bags under my eyes. Even with this incident, I’m still a workaholic.

Revised

Revisions Done: Created a short narrative from original writing.

     School days always felt like flashes of mundane classes and monotonous interactions until finally being released to officially start what was left of my afternoon. Once I had been promoted to manager at my job, a majority of my afternoons were taken from me. After the night shifts at work, I would rush home to stay up for hours in order to complete my school assignments. Learning to balance a part time job and being a full time student came easily but it was college applications that broke my stability.

     I do not get home until 11:30 pm after a full day of school and locking up the store once the night shift was over. Besides my apparent exhaustion, I still have a work load estimated to take at least two hours. Not wanting to waste any time, I threw my hair into a distressed top bun and stayed in my ice cream stained, bleach smelling work clothes. I knew I would be unable to sleep until I had finished the two pages of math problems, completed the two college applications I started, and wrapped up my major English essay. Before beginning, I made a cup of coffee, grabbed a few bottles of water, and a large plate of snacks. After bringing everything back to my bedroom, I instantly dove into the mountains of work waiting for me. Notebooks opened to lengthy notes. Packets of paper scattered with random highlighted lines. Multiple website tabs and word documents open on my laptop. Empty bottles of water here and there. A large plate with half eaten snacks laid on top of the piles of paper. In a matter of no time, I had made my bed into a post-war zone of partially done work and crumbs. 

     “I love you, but you look horrible, Jazmine.” My mother and I have always been comically honest to each other but her comment had more of an impact on me than she may have thought.

  

     Within a split second, all of the stress I pushed aside had crashed onto me like a tidal wave. I began to fling papers into the air, throw pens, and repeatedly scream about how I am a failure all the while crying profusely.  The pressure of being in high school and being a manager had finally hit. I have always been a strong person with the ability to keep myself together, so witnessing me snap struck my mother. She has never seen me in that state so her reaction to hold me tightly was highly apprehensive. My tantrum lasted for what felt like hours but was only mere minutes. After only slightly calming down, I began to clean up the mess I made only to continue my work with tear stained cheeks and uneven breathing.

     “I won’t be able to sleep peacefully until my work is done, I’m sorry.” 

     By the time I completed the pile of work and fell asleep it was already 3 am. Even with less than three hours of sleep, I still dragged myself to school the next day. Peers, coworkers, family, and friends were all impressed by my ability to handle a part time job while maintaining high grades in school. All of the praise put me under the false sense that I had to continue the good work before taking a break for my own well-being. 

Concert Anitcipation

Original 

     Parking is nothing but absolute havoc. Finding a spot seemed quite impossible. One is found and taken immediately. We leap out of the car. My friends and I are ready. Endless lines wrap around the venue. We join the other thrilled attendees. Smiles can’t be wiped off faces. Only a couple minutes have passed. Yet, the wait feels almost unending. Our anticipation can fight off armies. Our tickets are scanned and accepted. We squeeze past crowds of people. Arms are linked to stay together. Distance from the stage is decreasing. I want to be even closer.  The bars are at my chest. This is where I’m the most content. We still can’t believe we’re here. Another wait begins to drag on. Still, nothing could kill my excitement. Stage crew quickly sets up everything. Glimpses of the artists create insanity. The lights dim and we scream. A drum begins to be played. A melody begins on a guitar. Lyrics begin to be sung hypnotically. The jumping crowd abruptly sings along. Colorful, flashing lights fill the room. The bass is shaking my ribs. Our eyes could not be wider. For some reason, it feels unreal. Without a doubt, I belong here. 

Revised

Revisions Done: Expanded on length.

Concert of the year is announced. A lineup like this is unheard of. The group chat has become relentless. There is no question I’m attending. My friends and I purchase our tickets. The date has been marked down. We wish time could be fast-forwarded. The wait is going to take forever.

It’s the night before the night. My outfit has been picked out. Complete with my comfortable, timeless Converses. Transportation with friends is planned out. The quickest route has been chosen. “Driving To” playlist has been made. Energy fueled songs for the journey. “Driving From” playlist is also done. Mellow songs for the ride back. Concert tickets are ready to go. Phone rings with excitement filled texts. Sleep escapes me, eagerness fills in. This time tomorrow will be exuberant.

The next day is dragging on. I need time to speed up. When the afternoon arrives, we prepare. My friends and I are ecstatic. Before we leave, we eat up. Content, we pile into the car. The drive begins with nonstop music. Laughs and stories are exchanged throughout. The estimated arrival time clocks down. The venue is in clear sight.  Parking is nothing but absolute havoc. Finding a spot seemed quite impossible. One is found and taken immediately. We leap out of the car. My friends and I are ready. Endless lines wrap around the venue. We join the other thrilled attendees. Smiles can’t be wiped off faces. Conversations strike up effortlessly between everyone. Only a couple minutes have passed. Yet, the wait feels almost unending. Door open time is tiptoeing closer. The line begins to move forward. Attendees are inching closer with excitement. The entrance is nearby, yet far. We have reached the main door. Our tickets are scanned and accepted. 

Our anticipation could fight off armies.

Seeing the stage erupts our emotions. Expedition for the front has begun. Arms are linked to stay together. We squeeze past crowds of people. Distance from the stage is decreasing. I want to be even closer.  The bars are at my chest. This is where I’m most content. We still can’t believe we’re here. Now we begin the waiting game. Still, nothing could kill my excitement. Stage crew quickly sets up everything. Glimpses of the artists create insanity. They smile and wave back cheerfully. Their smirks show their own enthusiasm. Suddenly, the stage is seen vacant. Only mic stands and drums visible.

The lights have been shut off.  Darkness ensues a rush of emotions. My friends and I are screaming. Its seconds before sound is heard. Again, these seconds feel like years. A drum begins to be played. The crowd erupts into roaring cheers. A melody begins on a guitar. Undoubtingly, the roars become even louder. Lyrics begin to be sung hypnotically. The jumping crowd abruptly sings along. Colorful, flashing lights fill the stage. Fog begins to fill the venue. Lights can be seen in the air. Now, the display is beyond mesmerizing. My eyes could not be wider. My ribs shake with the bass. My voice is screaming the lyrics. My hands clap to the beat. My body is in constant motion. For some reason, it feels unreal.

Without a doubt, I belong here. 

Why I Care

Original

     I care about how I look. I care about how I feel. I care about what I do. The most important thing I care about is other people. This is not only a blessing but also a complete downfall of mine. From a young age I would treat everything and everyone with kindness. My innate thoughtful personality was furthered by my grandmother. Growing up, my young mother had to work two jobs in order to make ends meet. Since she was working a majority of the time, most of my childhood was spent with my grandmother. It is common to take on various personality traits from prominent caretakers which is why I continue to put others first. My grandmother would make surprise presents, baked goods, and help out others without ever expecting something in return. She would go through hell and back if it meant that she was able to care for someone in any way needed. Naturally, I began to take on similar selfless actions. One of my favorite things to do is surprise friends with their favorite candies for no reason. Unfortunately, it is looked down on to be too considerate. Although I have been told countless times that I’m going to be taken advantage of, I still always offer to help. A 6 year friendship of mine was recently ended because of the friend humiliating my in front of a group of people as well as completely cutting me off. Although the ending of the friendship hurt me more than anything, I would not hesitate to help her if she ever asked for anything. Most think I am out of my mind for saying so but it’s just how I am. 

Revised

Revisions Done: Expanded on length while also picking apart how I feel about this personality trait of mine.

     Caring is second nature to me. Besides my own well-being, the most important thing I care about is other people. This is not only a valuable characteristic but also disadvantageous for myself. From a young age I would treat everything and everyone with kindness and I was always willing to help. My innate thoughtful personality was brought up and fostered by my grandmother. Growing up, my young mother had to work countless hours in order to make ends meet. Since she was working countless hours, most of my childhood was spent with my grandmother. It did not take long for me to take on various personality traits from my leading caretaker which is why I continue to perform similar selfless actions. My grandmother would buy or make surprise presents, bake goods, and help others without ever expecting anything in return. She would do whatever possible if it meant that she was able to care for someone. In her eyes, she thought it was only proper to cater to others first before taking care of herself. In the same, when asked for help, I as well will go through great lengths to make sure I can take care of someone. Even with acquaintances, I will still assist them in some ways. However, I prefer to showcase my care by surprising others with “just because” presents. For example, when I know a friend is upset, sick, or going through something difficult, I bring them their favorite candy. Also, I adore catching up with family friends and personal friends who I have not heard from or seen in some time to see how they are doing. While their genuine joyfulness brings me happiness, I still feel as if it is nothing to be praised for. Like my grandmother, it seems only essential to care for others in any way.

     Unfortunately, it is looked down on to be too considerate. Though I have been told countless times that I’m going to be taken advantage of, I still always offer to help. Recently, a 6 year friendship of mine came to an abrupt, harsh end. Although everything ended with humiliation and silence that hurt me more than anything, there would be no hesitation if she ever asked me for anything. Furthermore, I would not expect her to do something for me to make it “equal”. Most think I am out of my mind for saying so but it’s just how I am. Not expecting anything in return has made me almost clueless to when I am being used by someone. As I have grown, I have personally realized how awful it is to be unaware when someone is clearly taking advantage of my caring nature. The mistreatment is apparent when someone only talks to me when in need or if they go into hiding when I ask for assistance. Additionally, it has come to my attention that I tend to forget about my well-being when helping others. There have been instances where, regrettably, I have put my safety at risk just to do a favor for someone. I have forgotten that putting yourself first is not egotistic but rather essential to avoid getting hurt. Currently, I am in limbo between discovering what situations and what people I should be selfless with. While I never want to lose my helpful personality, I have come to the understanding that I need to be selective with my aid in order to protect myself and to be considerate of my own good.

Summary

Here are three writing pieces I have done so far in my first college English course. They are each introduced with a short write-up about my thoughts on the piece itself. It is oddly enjoyable picking apart my own writing for once and pin pointing any problem areas. Below is a list of the writing pieces and their intros:

1. Picking Apart My Breakdown
2. Post-War Zone of Homework
3. Thoughts On The Radar Beauty
4. Radar Beauty
5. My Two Major Habits
6. Silver Lining of Disinterest 

Picking Apart My Breakdown

The topic of this writing piece was to capture a vivid memory from over a year ago where were not going through the best of times. The version posted is a very slightly altered version of what I wrote in class. I chose to go with the night I had a pile of homework up to my ears due at the end of the week. I had to complete all of the work while also having to be a manager at my job. I found this writing piece quite difficult because I’m not one to be open about any personal incidents. Even with feeling free to write what I wish, I was still vague with my feelings from that night. I have no issue explaining the scene or how others felt around me but talking about myself is something I’m not used too. To some this may not be seen as an issue but I feel that you should be connected with your writing. While I do strive to be interested in my writings, I rarely become emotionally attached. In my opinion, when a connection is made, the piece becomes more genuine and honest for the readers. This problem of mine is similar to how vague my writing can be which is explained in more depth with my final writing piece. Also, I have the tendency to be choppy with my writing. In the piece I jump from one situation from the other. For example, I go from briefly explaining my general problem to quickly jumping to everyone’s thoughts about me. It is difficult for me to blend ideas together to provide an easy transition. Although I wish I could open up more about exactly what I felt that night, I do not mind how my overall description of the night came out. 

Post-War Zone of Homework

                Notebooks opened to lengthy notes. Packets of paper scattered with random highlighted lines. Empty bottles of water here are there. A large plate with half eaten snacks laid on top of the piles of paper. My hair was in a knotty, unmanageable top bun. I was still in my froyo stained and bleach smelling work clothes. I had completely made my dining room a post-war zone of homework. Tonight I had to manage the store and lock up causing me to not get home till close to 12 on a school night. The pressure of being in high school and being a manager had finally hit. Everyone was impressed by how I was able to cope with having a part time job and still keep up my grades in school. All of the praise had gave me a false sense of having to continue the good work and not take a break for myself. The stress hit me like a ton of bricks which led to me having a small breakdown. I have always been a strong person with the ability to keep myself together so it hurt my family when they saw me crying and freaking out. My mother couldn’t handle seeing me in that state which caused her to also become upset. She told me that I needed a break but I knew I had to get my work done. That night I stayed up till the early hours of the morning and still went to school the next day with dark circles and bags under my eyes. Even with this incident, I’m still a workaholic. 

Thoughts On The Radar Beauty

For this writing piece, all that was given was a black and white picture of woman with a constant blinking radar for a face. While this was a free writing assignment for a few minutes in class, what is posted is a slightly revised version. I made the decision to continue with my thoughts because I still found myself having more ideas. While I know I could resume on with the same topic, I felt that I would quickly begin to ramble. Situations like these are rare for me because my brain typically becomes blank when I start to write.

                The reason behind choosing this writing piece is to showcase my abilities when it comes to creative writing. I enjoy these types of writing assignments because being able to creatively write allows for some of my best ideas to come out. Doing pieces of this kind remind me of picture narratives from elementary school which were my favorite. Although this writing piece is not particularly a decent one, I am proud of what I was able to come up with. For me, it is quite simple to create an imaginative idea in a limited amount of time. If a visual aspect is provided, I find myself with countless ideas. My problem is with properly writing down my thoughts fluently. After I exhaust myself of my thoughts, I begin to repeat myself. Towards the end of this writing piece, I became tangential on the fact that the woman in the picture is “searching”. Although it is the overall aspect of the piece, I got wrapped up in the idea and repeated it twice just in different words. I have noticed this habit of mine countless times, including while revising this piece. I chose to leave it as is to showcase that I still struggle with this problem.  

Radar Beauty

In the picture, a woman has both of her hands clasped to the side of her face. Her body language almost resembles an expression of someone swooning. Although, instead of a face, she has a constant blinking radar. The first thing that comes to mind is that she is searching for something or someone. Given her gesture, I get more of a sense that she is looking for a special someone or a significant other. Even with her face covered up, I am given a sense that she is a beautiful woman. She may have been hurt by past friendships and relationships but she is not phased. Still, she continues her search for her dream.

My Two Major Habits

Here it is, the first essay I have written as a college student and the way I feel about my writing has not changed. For this essay, I chose to talk about how finding a subject you care about is key for me when writing and for life in general. When it comes to essays, I could revise them countless times and still not feel confident in the finish product. Since writing is not my strong suit, I’m typically the first to criticize anything I write even if I am proud of the work I put into it. This piece has a large amount of revisions yet I feel that I have not really changed anything. Considering this is the biggest piece I have written in class so far, it has to be picked apart because it holds so many of my poor writing habits.

                Here comes my laundry list of problems and habits that showed through with this essay. While I do feel comfortable enough in the class to write freely, I will always have to write essays as formally as possible. I cannot break the five paragraph model even if I tried. I have been taught that an essay is not complete unless there is an opening and all that other stuff. Reading other works in the class made me realize that the five paragraph structure needs to be forgotten about at times. Without it, writing becomes almost unpredictable because the reader is not expecting the worn out arrangement of an essay. Another major problem I have is not being able to get my point across without sounding vague. In my head, I want to be straightforward but I feel that writing should be wordy and sophisticated. With this thought process, I tend to repeat myself in different words or just trail off without completing an idea I briefly began. I have difficulty with writing down my exact thoughts in a fluid manner that the reader will understand. Besides a few general wording revisions, I still think the point of my essay has not been properly conveyed. Sometimes I forget that the reader does not know my exact thoughts leaving them to have to decipher my writing. These are two major aspects of my writing habits that I plan on changing for the better.

Silver Lining of Disinterest

With countless amount of topics for writing, there are just as many instances where a writer will not be interested in a certain topic. If and when a subject is thought of to be uninteresting, chances are the disinterest will show through the writing piece itself. Finding a subject you care about is key. This has been a piece of writing advice I have taken into consideration the moment I came to the realization that writing is not my forte. Before starting to write an essay, I search for any aspect that I feel can capture my attention. Once my first personal task has been accomplished, writing flows easily. Therefore, the finished assignment would be something I am proud of and have invested my time into rather than sped through it. Whether it has to do with writing, reading, or life experiences, being interested in the subject at hand quickly relieves any burden felt.

 Unfortunately, as English classes became more difficult, any possible chance of gaining interest was thrown away. I began to realize that if the topic is not appealing, then completing a writing assignment thoroughly is still attainable with enough information. This is all thanks to the strict five paragraph instructions that allowed for a decent composition with little to no care. As long as an opening, three example paragraphs, and a conclusion were given, the result would be a passing grade. This will be achieved purely because it follows the appropriate format. With minimal room for creativity, I gained no interest in the topic I had to write about. If I did not enjoy writing before, at this point any chance was out the window. There were a few instances where all hope was not lost. Recounting personal events or being able to pick the topic were the few times I could write feely. When writing my college essay, I had no trouble opening up about my overwhelming interest in being able to bring music to someone whose life was changed by it. Gaining interest proved to be easy in these situations which would enable me to have ending products that I was proud of. A personal favorite will always be my paper on epilepsy in the Elizabethan times. It may sound odd for someone to be eager for a research paper, but I was genuinely enthusiastic to learn more about my topic. The endless hours of research were enjoyable so much so that I genuinely connected with my subject and cared about the research I was doing and the paper I was writing. It proved difficult to find information from the Elizabethan time period pertaining to anything health related. The troubles I faced with researching just drove me to delve in more into my topic because of its rarity. Linking the scarcity of information along with my existing strange interest in brain disorders, I was able to write what I consider a personal masterpiece.

Similarly, this advice also relates to reading material. If I had to read something that I thought of as boring, chances are that I did not retain any of the information and simply read it quickly just to complete it. Whenever I was instructed to read anything for American history I would skim through it with little to no interest, answer any questions if necessary, and then forget the information shortly after. On the other hand, if the focus of the reading is appealing, then I will take my time in order to keep hold of the material and enjoy it. Currently in college, I have had to read articles pertaining to the entertainment industry which is my dream field to work in. Given my extreme interest in my major, none of the assignments ever feel like an obligation. The business side of the entertainment world has captured my mind effortlessly. Specifically, I have recently learned about artist representation and venue management. With just the reading material I could recite the basics of both of these careers. Ask me to recall events from history classes and I would crumble apart. Although my interest in entertainment management entirely outweighs my loathing for history, even with a slight interest will allow me to remember the content.

Furthermore, finding a subject of interest has the ability to be applied beyond English related cases. It can be applied to a majority of life experiences and activities. At the age of 16, I began my job at a local frozen yogurt store. Since this was my first job, I took it seriously and became significantly more passionate because of how fun and easy it was. Between my comical coworkers, teenage acting boss, and delicious froyo flavors, I was never bored while working. I had no problem communicating with people and completing simple cleaning tasks her and there. Having customers tell me there day was made just by coming to treat themselves to froyo made me joyful. It almost came naturally to want to do well and improve. Given my high interest, I quickly climbed my way to becoming a manager a year later. On the other hand, I have had coworkers who felt working with froyo was too childish or boring leaving to put no effort into their job. By landing my idea of a pleasurable first job, I was motivated to climb up the ranks to become a manager.

Without even a slight care, it is easy to push aside any situation. Even with my lack of interest and capabilities in writing, I have been able to overcome some of the most exhausting assignments. Lack of motivation has been a grueling issue in my writing and reading thus far in my academic career. By coming to the realization with the writing advice, “find a subject you care about”, I have found myself to become interested and therefore motivated. I would like to challenge others to always search for that silver lining of interest.