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By Kimberley Powell
Artwork by Matt Gibson
For as long as I can remember I've held a pen to paper. I've always kept a journal. They are filled and remain to fill with anything and everything. I used to write short fiction for fun as a child. I had a wild imagination and loved expressing my creativity.
As I entered my teenage years, like everything else that was changing, so was my writing. My dear diary pages began to fill with heavier and darker thoughts. As I got older in high school, my writing became deeper. Mostly it was about learning life's lessons the hard way, developing my morals. They were days when new influences opened my mind and carried me in new directions. I was writing on "different frames of mind," along with the decisions I was facing. The experiences helped thoughts and words flow onto paper.
Then after graduating and moving on to the next "expected" point in my life, I spent a year-and-a-half copy-writing in college. Ten thousand dollars in debt and six months in Ireland later, I stepped back on to the path I'd originally planned and studied print journalism. Although my train of thought still ran the lines of my journal, I focused on straight-to-the-point news writing. I really enjoyed it. Except, of course, for the lack of ability to share my own thoughts and opinions.
I enjoyed every phase. I use the past tense because I'm now going through a major block and am starting to get worried, angry and impatient. I lack motivation, ideas and confidence. I don't know where to start. I live to be a freelance writer. It's one reason I came to the other side of the world; to have my own time and space - no distractions. And now, with so many magazines in the city, and so much time, I wish I could get past whatever the hell is in my way and just do it.
I came to Taiwan after graduation, have been here for more than nine months, and haven't submitted a thing, except this. It woke me up at 2am. Don't step on it. It's something, right? My first submission...my triumph. |
