The First Stage of a Wannabe Writer

As the curser blinks on screen like a prodding child, I stare at it wondering if my passion is just mocking me. Is this really what I want to do; and to be honest, what I am capable of doing. How the hell did I think that I could tackle something such as journalism? Having no background in writing, save for the average creative writing class in highschool, and maybe a ninth grade poem award, I felt a little out of my league. I still made typos, I sometimes used the wrong tense and more often than not, I felt like the structure of my writing was alike the game of 50 card pickup. But its what I wanted and needed to do...so it was worth a shot looking a bit like an amateur. Afterall, how amazing would it be to tell a story with such vigor and vibrance that you could paint a world in a strangers mind with mere consanents and vowels. To be able to transport an audience to places they have never been, and I suppose if I was good enough, to places that they would eventually want to go.

And I suppose thats where it all stemmed from. Like a weed in my head, the desire to tell people about my travels was constantly growing. I mean, I had a few elements covered: I had been travelling for the past couple years and recording my experiences through my other love - photography. Any chance I had, provided I wasnt ill or hungover from a Chiang Mai night on the town, I was pulling out my camera, freezing a few memories in the world of celluloid. There was nothing more gratifying than getting a roll developed, not even remembering what was on it, and looking at the pictures in front of me thinking, "Now, that picture has a real story to it."

Well, now I plan on expanding that gratification...

There is something to be said about combining all my passions into one entity. Traveling, writing and photography just seemed to make sense. Of course you hear the horror stories of this lifestyle; stressful deadlines, not getting paid, writers block, dangerous travel zones and only seeing your loved ones a handful of times a year...if that. But somehow, through the bombardment of minus points, I see the overwhelming ticks in its favour. I would be experiencing other worlds..and telling about them, meeting strange, interesting and inspiring people, I would be living among different cultures, eating their food the way they intended, not the way North America has bastardised most "fine culteral cuisine". Everything about traveling sends goosebumps over my skin and adrendiline through my veins. A constant rush is always there, as I jump on and off planes to different cities, with nothing but a backpack, a camera and an eagerness to see what awaits on the other side. My only hope is that its not writers block.

L. McGuire