I’ve never actually considered myself much of a writer. I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve always loved spelling, and I’ve always loved grammar. In fourth and fifth grade, I had the same teacher that was obsessed with writing. We would have weekly creative writing assignments. We would correct sentences for hours on the whiteboard that he would obsessively restrict anyone from erasing with their hands (the oils in the skin caused irreversible smudges).
By the time I got to middle school, Honors English was just a repeat of fourth grade. It was so ingrained in my brain, that it was quite literally second nature. Fast-forward to high school—same story. I’ve loved writing ever since I was young, all because of my fourth and fifth grade teacher. I’ve reconnected with several of the kids that were in the class with me, and all of us have shared the same passion and love for writing, grammar, and spelling.
So I guess the answer to the question “Why I write” is that I just always have. I’ve never been afraid of writing. I’ve always enjoyed it, in a self-important way. I think writers, like artists, musicians, and all other storytellers have a sense of confidence (or self-importance) that is part of our nature—we have something to share with the world, and we aren’t afraid to share it.