by Ashley Miller

In school they always ask you, what do you want to be when you grow up? And most kids change their minds twenty billion times before they finally choose one they want to stick with. I, on the other hand, am the complete opposite; I’ve always known that I want to be an author.
I’ve always preferred the company of a good book over actual human socialization. In a book you are the character, and you’re not stuck in some boring realistic world. Instead of going to school, getting a job, and paying off your debts until your dead, you’re a sorcerer destined for greatness, wielding the ability to unlock the lost magic of your realm. Now tell me, which one sounds better?
Writing has always been a passion of mine. When I was in the fourth grade I started on my first book during math class. This was also the year I fell behind in math. (Whoops.) It didn’t go past five pages but still. I continued to write here and there, but I decided to take it seriously in the seventh grade. I began writing my first book all through my seventh and eighth grade years, and when I was about to continue my freshman year, I read over the entire thing and hated it. Absolutely, wholeheartedly hated it.
So what did I do? Scrapped it and started again. The book I started is the book I’m currently working on. As of late, I have over fifty thousand words which averages out to be around one hundred and eighty-one pages. This time I can taste the completion. I won’t give up on this one.
Writing takes me away from this world. I know it sounds kind of strange, but when my fingers begin to fly across the keyboard creating a heart-wrenching, mind-boggling plot with characters that have intricate backstories and addicting personalities. It just engulfs me. The world around me kind of fades away and I see the characters interacting with each other. I feel their happiness, sadness, jealously… Everything. I become the characters.
There is nothing I love more than that feeling.
The downside to all of this is the people who doubt you. Heck, people in my own family, who are supposed to be my support system doubt me and tell me I’ll never make it. That I should learn a trade so I can get a job and support myself. “Your dreams are too big, you’ll never make it. Do you know how many people try to publish and sell books each year?”
I’ve come to realize I don’t need their support. I care about this so immensely I will spend my entire life striving to become who I know I can and will become. Just you wait, one day you’ll see me on the bestselling list.