I would like to dedicate this post to you, Dr. Arini

The past few years I've been very aware of two things: I am a writer, and I am a mess.

The second I'm completely confident about-- the first, 99.9% I'm confident about it.

Through the years I have filled dozens of diaries, wrote hundreds of poems, dedicated myself to several short stories, and studied writing as a craft for countless hours.

I've always known that Creative Nonfiction was my first love-- but I wasn't confident in my Creative Nonfiction writing. I had studied and practiced Fiction and Poetry through various classes at ASU, but unfortunately they offer a limited amount of Creative Nonfiction classes. To be specific, they offer two: ENG 217, Writing Reflective Essays (Essay about food, a place, a memoir) and a 400-level class titled "Creative Nonfiction" that requires prereqs I'm taking next semester. I took ENG217, and was so ecstatic for the class to begin. My teacher was a published author, a small, elderly, quiet Indian lady. She would have us read horribly boring examples, and then we would review the piece-- word by word, sentence by sentence. The class had under 20 students and we sat in silence while she slowly analyzed each piece. It was the most dreadfully boring class I had ever taken. The assignments didn't challenge me whatsoever, and I left the class doubting my love for Creative Nonfiction. I went back to Poetry and Fiction classes-- but felt like I was still missing out on something. And then I discovered the "CRW" classes offered at community colleges. I found your class and enrolled immediately. I couldn't be happier with that decision. The combination of this class and various assignments we've had, with a psychology course I also took this semester, "PGS394 Media Madness: Mentall Illness in Literature in Film" has refueled that fire burning in my belly. I've rediscovered and confirmed my passion-- writing about the dark sides of life-- mental illness, addiction, death, to enlighten readers of a world they most likely have misunderstood.

Your responses to my assignments and blog posts have been ever-encouraging, and they have pushed me to perform my best. And I discovered Evelyn, my gem. 

It seems as if the minute life settled down-- I'm finally stable and have a routine, a good job, a wonderful boyfriend, a roof over my head-- I was able to focus on what really matters. My writing. It's a scary thing to love. It's intimidating walking into bookstores and seeing the thousands of books around you, knowing there is so much talent out there and only a fraction of them make it. It's intimidating to expose the thing that is most personal to you--your writing--and to know that others could regard it as rubbish. 

I am now confident that I have a chance. If I follow my plans, obtain my degree in Creative Writing, get accepted into a graduate school to pursue Nonfiction, and stay on top of my illness, I will have a chance. I have all of the right elements, I just need to continue.

The only way to become an expert is to practice, and write I will.

Thank you for your encouragement.