If you asked me a year ago what I planned to do when I got to senior year, I would have responded that I didn’t know. I would have also responded with the stereotypical; go to class, get good grades, graduated on time. I had started writing again for fun with the help of a school club. But if you would have asked me what I wanted to do with my writing, I never would have known.
A year ago I did not plan on anyone reading my writing.
At age seventeen, I have worked through the long and grueling publishing process. My book started as a NaNoWriMo project that was never supposed to see the light of day. I planned to write my own book for my own enjoyment. This year I’ve branched away from that. I took my book, molded it and published it.
Now, I’m seventeen years old. I am no expert in writing or editing. I was no expert when I started and I am no expert after doing that. I write for my own enjoyment. Do I think I’m good? That’s an open-ended question. I leave the idea of “good writing” up to the reader exploring it.
The editing/revisions were hard. I won’t sugarcoat that for the weary writer. I knew they were hard. I faced a challenge of revising. To pull apart your own writing and destroy the world you had created was difficult. Nobody could have prepared me for that. Its facing characters who you loved and cutting them because you realize they aren’t too beneficial to a story. The work I had to do was like cleaning out the junk drawer. You pick apart sentences and words and wonder, “Do I need this? Will I need this later?” over and over again. You constantly question every choice you made with uncertainty.
I loved the writing process. I loved world building with new characters. I loved reflecting my own ideas and some things I didn’t believe in my book. I realized that you don’t always believe everything you write. I realized, sometimes, twisting the situation into your own words builds the story. I realized that everything I put into my book didn’t have to be fact but instead could be something you twisted around for your own benefit as a writer because guess what; writing is hard and you cannot be expected to make everything up as you go. Character building was the same way. Build what you want to see; not what you do see.
At seventeen, publishing has been monumental. I’ve learned to lean on my support team of a club at school and my friends that were outside of school. I’ve built support around me that some writers may have lacked. I have learned so much through this process. I’ve watched each thing I built spiral into something else. It has helped me work through the process day after day. I’ve finally published my book, The Underground. I’ve watched it spiral with my friends and family. People have looked at me at seventeen and all that I’ve tried to do.
I claimed my win on NaNoWriMo. I’ve claimed my personal win with publishing a book.
So if you asked me a year ago, where I’d be I wouldn’t have thought this. Working as a senior in high school and publishing a book has been so monumental. I never expected this.
I explored different writing methods before finding a medium that fit me. There were instances where my focus was on essays. I had days where my focus lingered on poetry. Short stories danced in my visions. Sometimes nothing felt right. It worried me to find a moment where I found a medium I could depend on. Finding a novel was a moment that felt like a saving grace.
To the writer scared to take that leap, do it. I encourage anyone who has a deep passion for writing to just do it. Throw yourself into the mess and don’t look back. Some days will suck with writers. Some days will feel like you just can’t stop writing. I recommend to anyone weary to start; just start and don’t look back.
A.D Sugarbaker 