Who or what inspired you to start writing creatively?

1. 62

   mcbelposted 11 years ago

   Who or what inspired you to start writing creatively?

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2. 77

   JimTxMillerposted 11 years ago

   I was about 12 years old and had a book report due that I had put off until the next to last day. I went to the school library, found the thinnest novel I could and checked it out. That book was "The Old Man and the Sea", and I ended up staying awake all night reading it and not because I "had" to. I've been writing ever since, trying to measure up to that one novel.

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3. 0

   lisasuniquevoiceposted 11 years ago

   mccbel,
   I read "Harriet the Spy," when I was a child and ever since I've wanted to write things down. I started writing in a journalism class in high school and studied journalism in college. Afterward I wrote for local newspapers and magazines.
   When I started to write features I felt that this was my first creative writing experience.
   Lisa

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4. 60

   duffsmomposted 11 years ago

   It started when I was about 13. I loved to read and I liked certain aspects in stories.  So I wanted to write a story that had all the elements that I enjoyed. It sort of started from there - I wanted to write the book that I wanted to read.

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5. 85

   M. T. Dremerposted 11 years ago

   I wish I could remember what my first moment of inspiration was, but I can't. I've just always loved stories. To the point that, when I would play with action figures, I had stories with a beginning, middle and end, followed by sequels and spinoffs. If I drew primitive comics, the words filled more of the page than the images. And once I found the fantasy genre (specifically the one depicted in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time) I was then locked on my future path. I often think that I should have gone into a more lucrative profession, yet when I look back on my life, it seems like I was always meant to be a writer. I suppose that's kind of an encouraging thought.

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6. 69

   onegoodwomanposted 11 years ago

   My Grandparents, who reared me, had an old, very old farmhouse.
   
   Above my Grandmother's "cook table".........think, prep area..........were two large windows that opened inward into the kitchen.   These windows were opened only in heat of summer.
   
   As a young child, ( 4-7), I had to stand on her prep area ( cook table) to even see out the windows.
   
   It just happened that the windows were opened, and I was standing on the table top, when my childhood eyes saw................
   
   far, very far..........probably a 3/4 mile into the distance.......beyond the garden......across the pasture and into the open field..........
   
   I SAW the lighting strike the tree.   I SAW IT.   I SAW THE LIGHTING STRIKE THE TREE........it was powerful, beautiful and destructive.........yet, something .......remained in the chaos.
   
   I watched as the stately oak tree succumbed, and crumbled, I saw the cattle flee, I saw the rain quench the earth..............I SAW It.
   
   
   In that very destructive moment, I saw both, the beauty of lightning, ( fire) and the destruction that it could cause.   I knew the devastation, the destruction, the loss, and somehow.......by some means......I knew the grass would one day be green again.   
   
   In that single flash of an eye's wink.........I KNEW that I had to tell the story.
   
   I HAD to tell people of the things that I had seen.
   
   From that moment on...........the ONLY choice that I would ever have, was WHAT story to tell.

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