My Writing Autobiography

Early Influences and Experiences

Every night before I slept

my mother read me prose,

about mythical lands and lessons,

that we can learn from our friends and foes.

She told me tales about ancient Asia

and the lessons we must learn,

and these stories taught me that I must work hard,

for everything I earn.

She told me tales about the lady

who lives in the moon among the stars,

and about the sleeping dragon

in a land isolated and far.

She taught me about red envelopes

And why we shouldn’t sweep on New Year’s day,

why Taiwan’s a paradise for her,

and what her parents used to say.

She wanted me to learn

about the country from which she came,

and acquire all her favorite morals

so I could know them just the same.

And listening to these tales,

every night before I closed my eyes,

would fill the darkness with

images until the sun would rise.

All these beautiful stories

that my mother used to tell,

made me want to be someone

who could write things just as well.

I spent my time in bookstores,

surrounded by Suess and Patterson,

reading but not knowing they’d

influence my own creations.

So I picked up a tiny pencil

and scribbled words on empty sheets,

and my mother would tell me every time

I was the best author she would ever meet.

Developing Tastes & Crafting a Writing Style/Persona

She read all my pieces,

although some were hard for her to understand,

because I wrote in a language

different, than the one from her home land.

However, when she read,

my poems that would rhyme,

she would smile at the sound of them

and appreciate them every time.

I liked how she liked my words

and how we could connect through literature,

so my style gravitated towards poetry,

because it was the easiest to read for her.

But my fairy tales and happy endings

changed as I did too,

reflecting some of the grief I felt,

and the sorrow I went through.

Writing became my protection,

my place to rant and express,

it was my something that could fill my heart

when I could feel only emptiness.

And poetry, emotions,

metaphors that turned pain into beauty,

became my savior by helping me,

get through times of agony.

Then I realized that if they helped me so much,

words could also help other people,

so I took to sharing my previously private pieces

to a blog and online journal.

I wrote about feelings

in hopes that others would connect,

and when a contest published my works,

I gained my own respect.

I started to see myself

more as a writer,

and writing made me feel so much

better and lighter.

Present Day

And now at age sixteen,

writing has never meant more,

it’s become my passion that I,

with all my heart, adore.

I’ve become the kind of writer

who writes about what occurs,

who puts into words and phrases,

things that are hard to say for her.

My biggest influence when writing,

is none other than Edgar Allan Poe,

who creates heartbreaking art

by just writing what he knows.

I hope that one day I,

can spin pain into beauty,

into something that can

touch the hearts of so many.

I’m not sure if I ever will become

someone as well-known as he,

but just being able to evoke emotion in a few

would mean so much to me.

And although I’m already a writer,

I know I can still improve,

and through a class at my school,

I have seen my progress move.

Creative Writing two,

has changed so much for me,

molding me into becoming the

type of writer I want to be.

I’ve learned that although feelings

can help add depth to writing,

techniques and wording can have

an impact on everything.

Imagery and structure,

revealing details not specifically said,

can make all the difference in deciding

the significance of what one has read.

I wrote a personal essay,

that was hard for me to write,

about being an abandoned building,

in a time when I felt more darkness than light.

I focused on my tone,

metaphors that expressed what was in my heart,

and I painted a picture of a crumbling house,

alone and falling apart.

And although I had first been too afraid,

I shared my piece with other people,

and just like I’ve always wanted,

they called it “relatable”.

In that moment I felt like those

that I’ve always looked up to,

writing what I know

and what I feel is truly true.

I was proud of opening myself to

a style I had not used before,

and for once just look at what I wrote,

and not a number that tells what I scored.

I learned so much and grew a lot too

by retaining so much knowledge,

and now I know how to not only write,

but also edit and evaluate a passage.

Looking Ahead

I hope that as I grow,

writing will never leave,

because it has been the greatest gift

that I will ever receive.

I hope I will write books,

that epitomize the power of letters,

so that maybe one day what I write

can make someone’s life a little better.

And lastly when I have kids,

I will hold them close each night,

and tell them my own stories,

the ones I will one day write.

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