Recently, I found a journal of mine from elementary school. This discovery got me thinking a great deal about how much my writing has changed over the years. I remember being that age (eight or nine) and wanting to be a creative fiction writer when I grew up. The funny thing is that I can divide up my ages into epochs of styles of writing that I was obsessed with. For example, when I was twelve and thirteen, I was dedicated to short fiction stories and describing forests (all of my twelve/thirteen year-old stories took place in forests).
To be brief, since I learned how to, I cannot remember tire of writing, especially creatively. Thankfully, my work has grown: both in vocabulary and in actual settings (my stories are not solely based in forests anymore!). The most dramatic difference I can trace in my writing, however, happened between my freshman and sophomore year of college. My academic writing course gave me a framework to look at writing that I had never considered before, and I have been exposed to a wider canon of literature to learn from. Now, to end this professionally, I will pat myself on the back.: good job, Meggie!