I’ve been writing various things for quite some time. The first experience I had with writing stories, at least that made me love writing, was in third grade. We started to do short story writing, and I have a vague memory of some sort of writing club in my class.
Naturally, my stories were childhood goofiness and unrefined at that point. That didn’t matter to me, as it was the act of writing that made me happy. Even the act of sharing the story wasn’t as important, though it was fun.
No, the creation of adventure, a new world, and new friends was the point. My passion for writing went right along with my love of reading. No matter what was going on around me, regardless of how people around me behaved, I could escape at any time into a new world.
These feelings hit home in September of that year. The 11th, specifically. I remember vividly, being gathered in one classroom to watch the news on the smartboard. Most of us didn’t completely understand what was happening, until our teachers explained: The nation was under attack.
That day, the world began to become scary. The scarier the world, the more I would read or dabble at writing. I could escape into books or onto a page, and I could decide just how scary things would get when I wrote.
I’ve learned more about myself by writing than I think I ever could have without it. I’ve learned that I cope with stress by escaping until I can truly comprehend what I think and feel about something. Often, I cope with grief through tears and then a brief escape, and escape that reminds me of who or what I’ve lost.
But I’ve also learned that I can step back and consider more sides than just my own. I can treat all sides of an argument as equal, particularly when the situation is one of subjectivity. The skill of thinking like another came to me sometime in middle or high school, both when reading or writing.
Today, I have a lot that I’ve gained from writing. Shorty Scorch, my “cohort” for this blog, was created sometime in middle school or late elementary. She’s evolved and grown much as I have, to the point that she’s the rational voice in my head.
Shorty was created to be what I hoped to be when I was grown up. She was powerful, a ninja, and a hero. Shorty was cool, and smart.
I originally based Shorty off ninja I saw on TV, specifically Naruto. She, like the title character, harbored a demon because that was cool and heroic, battling demons. She was both beloved and an outcast. Basically, she was me and Naruto combined. I wasn’t a very creative child.
As I’ve grown, however, so has she. Her latest iterations separate her from the world of Naruto. She’s a warrior, though not necessarily a ninja, and she no longer has to have a demon. Her personality has matured, regardless of what age she appears as.
Inversely, as Shorty has grown, so have I. As she matures, so, too, do I. The situations she is in makes me stop and consider what would happen in each outcome of the situation. Should she react with force, what could happen? What if she were to talk her way out of things? Should she show compassion, or indifference? Hostility? If she dislikes someone on first contact, why? What has set her off so? How does she respond if she finds she is wrong about a person? Does she own up to her mistakes, as she makes them?
All of these questions can be applied to me. Indeed, they can be applied to us all. Such things are hard to do in the moment, but can be useful in retrospect and in a quiet moment to consider yourself. The other part of her character, at least originally, that can apply to us all: The demon.
Shorty had her demon for many years. I was around 7 or 8 when I first created her, yet the demon only began to disappear around 20 years later. The demon only began to disappear when I realized what it truly represented.
The demon, a fire cat creature by the name of Linio, was a subconscious way for me to show that Shorty had problems. She had her own struggles that others would and could never understand. Others might have similar problems, a demon of their own for example, but they did not suffer in the same way she did. Likewise, she did not suffer the same way they did. At some point, Shorty always came to terms with her demon, striking a deal which kept her family safe, and yet let the demon do some damage in combat.
Linio was a representation of so many things. Physical and mental illness, a person’s surrounding condition, a struggle with where to go from here… And the list goes on.
And as the writing for Shorty grew, I realized I was specifically reflecting my demons onto Linio: Depression and anxiety. Linio could be a debilitating issue for Shorty, causing her to lose control or be unable to do anything. Yet, dealing with Linio caused Shorty to grow. She learned to use her issue to her advantage, in a literal sense.
I have learned much the same with my depression. I write on this blog to entertain, to educate, and with the hope that I help someone in a way that various media and creators have helped me. I hope to inspire others to create, in their own way. You don’t have to be good at it, so long as you enjoy it.
I like to write, as an escape and a way to have control when I feel I have none. I doodle as a way to help clear my mind, or just keep my hands busy when I’m thinking. And if you’ve seen the new logo for the blog, you’ll know I’m no hand at art or design. You may even feel that I’m no hand at writing, and that’s your opinion to have.
But I am happy. I am learning, about myself and the world around me. And I am finding my way to attempt to aid others, with articles like this. Writing can teach you so much, about yourself and the world around you. Or, it can help you get your feelings out, so that you learn your mind better and can control it better. I hope this long, rambling article can help show you that, and inspire you to take up a creative hobby.
Short and Scorch 