My hopes to someday get paid to do what I love.
|For me writing is an addiction. Not the type I am a shamed or ever plan to quit, but an addiction none the less. Why an addiction? You may ask. I call it an addiction because the hold it has on me is that intense, physical, need type grip.
Please no sympathy needed. I have no desire for any interventions or rehabs. I embrace the addiction, in fact I feed it on a regular basis. It is probably the only addiction I have ever had that is good for me. In fact it has been with for so long, I am not even sure how it all started for sure. I am rabbit trailing, let me get back on point.
Why call it an ADDICTION?
I am sure most if not everyone has known someone that was or is addicted to something. Stop and think of how that person without the addiction. How it affected the mood, body functions, and general personality. With the addiction is one way and without the addiction is another, right?
That is how it is for me. I have a wide range of changes, some are subtle while others are definingly noticeable by all. It effects me physically as well as mentally.
I will physically feel a pen in my hand when there is no pen in my hand, I will see words forming on plain white surfaces even though nothing is being written, poems & stories will randomly start forming in my head, I have even been told that I will look at paper as a starving child looks at food. It sounds far fetch I know, but it is true. Now of course these are the extreme physical effects of it. Most of the time it simply an inner need to write something anything.
I know right now you are probably thinking something along the lines of "What a bunch or Bull." I understand. In fact that is what my family thought too when I was younger. They credited to everything from acting out to grieving process.
At the peak of this addiction I was a pre-teen, dealing with the passing of my closest family member; my father, who was also my very best friend. My mother's withdraw from reality, attempting to oversee the raising of a toddler with his own issues and struggling with the inner battle of wanting to be a kid but knowing my family needed me to take head of family.
As you can see I had a lot to deal with at only 11 years old. Even though at the time, I thought the adults were ignoring what I was saying because I was a kid, now I understand why they said and did what they did.
At the time of this peak, I my room was at ground level with its own entrance. I know odd for a mere 11yr old, but due to what all I was in charge of justified. Anyways, I kept insisting that the walls needed designs on them if the adults were going to keep locking me in there without paper. Naturally they refused to listen. I took matters into my own hands.
I used markers, pencils, (which I hate using), pen and when they took those away I used chalk, coal, and even dark colored rocks to write. All over the walls, the ceiling, hell I even carved writings into my floors.
They of course sent me to a number of counselors, admitted me for observation of the mental ill. Claiming that I was "acting out" and struggling with the "grieving process", that I may have inherited my mother's depression.
Finally an investigation was launched due to all the test coming up "inconclusive" and whoever examined my room noticed that it was not just graffiti and vandalism, but powerful poetry and stories. They were able to track the events that lead me to the hospital by "days of now" journal entries. They released me after 3 months on "self-diagnosis of writing addiction. Must always have access to write at will".
It was brought to attention of those in charge that when the writings were actually read it mapped out how life was for me and revealed great literary works of art. It was it the belief of the investigation team that I would one day be one of the great writers in history and that all artist was simply misunderstood.
I have been wanted to find a way to get on that very path. A path in which I would get paid to write.
I have done promotional stuff, newsletter, business correspondences, poems, even a few speeches for friends and family. Which has gotten me references to other friends and family, but rarely paid. These days people are not interested in listen to friends and family references for employment. "They are bias" or "They have no creditdentionals". While I may have the protentional to write for hire, no one is willing to give a chance without professional references. Sense I have yet to figure out how to get professional references I am still just dreaming of the day I can get paid to do what I love.
I will always strive for the day I can turn my passion into cash. Be it by book, letters, promotional, journalism, or just correspondence.
If you ever come up with a lead you know where to find me. Send it my way, if need be I will hound the industry enough that they offer me a job just to stop the inquires.