I recently
re-watched the movie A Cinderella Story
with Hilary Duff. It was one of my favorites growing up; I couldn’t even tell
you how many times I’ve watched it. Anyway, there is a mantra that comes up
throughout the movie, originally spoken by Babe Ruth: “Never let the fear of
striking out keep you from playing the game.” This resonated with me as a kid,
and it does even more so today.
I’ve always
been more of a head-in-the-clouds kind of person. I’m very practical and
rational and grounded, but when it comes to my future, I’ve always been a big
dreamer. I had many things I aspired to be growing up including singer, dancer,
teacher, mother, and most notably, writer. When I was younger I used to just
write little stories for fun. I didn’t care if anyone liked them. I didn’t even
care if anyone wanted to read them. I just wrote for me. It was fun. Then in
high school, I took my first creative writing class, and while it was a bit
more structured than my personal writing time, it allowed me to get actual
feedback on my writing and learn how to make it better to read and more fun to
write.
Then college
happened. I decided to major in creative writing because I wasn’t really good
at anything else. I had short stories due every week, and while most of the
feedback I received from my classmates and professors was productive, some of
it was hard to hear. I was offended when people didn’t like my characters or my
voice. For so long, my writing had always been for my eyes only. I didn’t have
to care about what other people thought. As long as I liked it, that was all
that had mattered. But college hit me with the reality that if I really wanted
to be a writer like I had always dreamed as a kid, I had to relinquish some of
my control over my writing. It was really hard. My stories were my children,
and I wasn’t ready to let them out into the world. But by the time my four
years had come to a close, I was grateful for all the things I had learned, and
I knew that I was a better writer because of the constructive criticism I had
endured.
I graduated
a little over a year ago, and not a day has gone by since that I haven’t
thought about what I want to do with my life. I haven’t written any solid
fiction since college; I just haven’t felt the drive to write. I feel like no
matter what I write, it won’t be good enough to publish, so what’s the point?
But today I realized that I’ve lost myself a bit. I’ve lost the love I had for
writing for myself, for not caring what other people would think. I’ve been so
focused on writing something for publication that I’ve lost my love for the art
and beauty of it all. I’m letting the fear of striking out keep me from playing
the game, and that’s not what a young Hope Schreiner would do.
I would
absolutely love to find a full-time job doing something related to my degree,
but I haven’t found anything that piques my interest yet. And you know what? I
think that’s okay. I am young, I am passionate, and I am determined, so I have
no doubt that I will do whatever it takes to find a career path that makes me
happy. And until then, I will write.
