I remember that day all too well. It was a sunny summer afternoon and my mom had brought her old typewriter up from the basement. That was the day I decided to become a writer. By that point, I’d already gone through a dozen or so imaginary professions. (Everything from a basketball player to a ballerina and a super secret spy had floated through my mind.) But those were daydreams more than legitimate career paths.
On that fateful summer day, I was immediately drawn to that old typewriter. I wanted to know how it worked and if I could use it. The next several hours were spent locked away in the dining room, steadily typing my very first short story. It was called, “The Amulet,” and featured a princess who threw a cursed amulet deep into the forest
Though the rest of the details are hazy in my mind, there are a few things I do remember. Like feeling completely alive. I was overwhelmed with passion, excitement, and joy. Everything else faded away and it was just me and my imagination. And once I’d actually finished my story? I felt an enormous sense of pride. That was the moment that I truly discovered the power of words. I had found my calling.
After that fateful summer day, I spent most of my free time writing. Whether I was starting a class newspaper in grade school or achieving an Honours BA in Professional Writing…. words remained an important part of my life. Over the years, they have allowed me to express, dream, and imagine. They continue to fill me with passion and purpose. They feel like home.
What do words mean to you?