I recalled the article I wrote that got published in the local newspaper when I was in primary school. It was no more than a simple essay with 100 words but I recalled how pleased I was seeing my name in print. That was the only thing I've written that got published. Perhaps that was the start of my desire to write. I've since then written letters and sent postcards to friends during school breaks. However, aside from papers I need to write to pass my classes, I've not been writing in college.
A few years ago, I felt the strong urge to write. Didn't start as I didn't know what to write. I wasn't sure what I've to say is interesting enough for anyone to want to read. I am not sure I can come close to the talent of great writers I admire who spin beautiful words and captivating stories.
Reading Junot Diaz's experience is comforting and encouraging. If there's really something I enjoy doing, I like to write. I've started a few paragraphs on several stories which are filed in my folder waiting to be brought out, dusted and continued at some point. For now, I still don't know what I want to write about. Even though blogging is not considered serious writing, for me it's my canvas where I let my thoughts and feelings flow. I will continue to scribble on anything and everything. Do I care if no one reads? Not anymore as long as I am happy writing. For me, it's therapeutic.