I feel like I need to write, but I’m not sure what I need to write about. This is not a new feeling for me, but acting on it is a relatively recent development. I have been an avid reader from a young age, mostly of fiction, but for awhile it was pretty much anything I could get my hands on. I didn’t have a ton of friends growing up, and I lived out in the country from the ages of eight to eighteen, so I found friends in my siblings and in books. Books were preferred to siblings quite often. In my ninth grade year, I read a book ever 1-3 days. The older I get, the more demands I have on my time and the less time I have to just read an entire book, but it’s still one of my favorite things in the world. Our world today is so full of clips and short articles and a multitude of other things that call for a very small piece of our time each, which ends up sucking hours of our lives.
were are such a huge part of my life, I have developed quite the internal monologue. This is especially prominent when I don’t have much else to occupy myself. Since the majority of my workday is spent in data entry in an eerily quiet office, I find myself mentally writing quite a bit. Lately, I have been trying to understand something that seems to be pretty evident, but never fully clicked for me… Those people (authors) are just people who write down the things they think in some kind of logical order (some notably more logical than others), and either people want to read it or they don’t. I think this realization goes hand in hand with my post about how we grow older but we’re still just… Us. We don’t magically morph into “author,” “entrepreneur,” “athlete,” “artist,” or whatever. Life is a gradual process. There’s no deadline for the answer to the “What do you want to be when you grow up” question to be realized.
I took an AP Literature class in high school my senior year and it was wonderful.
Not to toot my own horn, but I did make a 4 on the AP test… Anyway, in this class, I was introduced to or delved further into quite a few different literary concepts that fascinated me. One that sticks with me and I think about quite often is the idea of stream of consciousness writing, specifically the writing of William Faulkner. It’s hard to put description of that fascination in words… The concept is just mind-blowing to me. It seems to be such an insight into the author’s mind in more ways than standard prose. Reading The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying (the latter being the subject of my final project for the AP class) made me feel like I was inside the mind of Faulkner, like I was part of what could have been going through his mind and transferred directly to paper, without the benefit or detriment of the outline, that little structure that seems to remove the person from the work itself. I’d like to think that these masterful works were just the kind of thing a literary genius of today has floating through his or her mind while completing page after page of data entry…