The importance of writing has been a strong theme throughout my life. From a young age, my writing was my escape and my outlet. My stories consisted of worlds where people who didn’t like me would. I was the main character of a world that I could make much happier. I could travel to anywhere at any time. I could go to uncharted lands or even outer space, places I had only pretended to visit in my bedroom.
These short stories and little writings evolved over time as I learned more about technique. I eventually swapped myself for a being much different, someone with struggles, but one in control of her destiny. At a young age, I didn’t see much of a future for myself, even though my dreams were large. I often tossed these stories away or just kept them inside so as not to use any school supplies my parents managed to get for me.
With age, my writings went through an evolution, morphing into more comfortable styles with characters who had become familiar to me. I knew each by name, each having rich histories. I joined a literary role-playing group with others my age, and we would get lost for hours in worlds either we or others had created. During this time, the birth of a character named Dante occurred. His first incarnation was as a simple, controversial painter, but I continued to develop him, finally finding his home in The Blasphemer Series.
I’m in my early thirties as I write this, and these characters have been with me for over half of my life. Writing literally saved me. Without this outlet, my childhood and teenage woes would have taken me to a dark place. I’m thankful for the gift I have been given. When I speak of how one should encourage themselves to write, it could quite literally save a life. Now, I save myself with therapy journal entries just to de-stress and get it out; otherwise, it might overflow into a panic attack or inconsolable crying session. I’ve been lucky to be able to express myself through writing and art.