My Hidden Talent
Cristina Pierce, Division 2, 12th grade #ws17e-s1d2

I was a strange child. I had always called myself “gifted.” The thought of having a special talent was thrilling to me and always placed a smile on my face, especially when I would open one of my secretive notebooks in the middle of class. Throughout elementary and middle school, I was deemed the troublesome child who was always scolded for talking in class and writing “nonsense” in my notebooks and even reading books in class. My teachers would claim that these instances would occur at inappropriate times, but truthfully, it was because I had always completed the mathematics and English textbooks in the first semester of school, only so that I could cause “trouble” and “be a distraction,” as my former teachers would say. Although my hungering desire to surpass the students in every grade I entered may sound similar to many other college applicants, it is what lies within those pages of those mysterious notebooks that I was forbidden by teachers to write in during those long hours of class.

My grandfather would always tell me these marvelous stories, and I would begin to write my own stories as soon as I learned how. I wrote my first story in the first grade, and I have been enthralled by the process of putting my thoughts into words and shaping them into stories for others to read. I was obsessed with reading as a child, learning from different authors how to transform words on a page into pictures in the mind. Letting others read my written works is like letting them see into my rampant and boisterous mind, almost like a movie but better. Books, from what I have learned can be ambiguous, and many readers may interpret separate pieces differently, plunging each person into their own imagination under the guidance of the words of the author. How amazing it would be, as a writer, to have this transforming effect on readers.

My frequent writing in the mysterious notebooks, which contained an epic tale I had written in middle school, allowed me to drastically improve my English skills. When I entered high school, essays, which would take others possible a week to write, would only take me roughly an hour to fully plan and execute with both ease and precision. For the longest time, I assumed I was just quick with words, when it came to professing my thoughts and ideas, but essay after essay and story after story, it became evident, not only to my teachers and friends and family, but also to me that through my ambition and passion for the art of writing, I learned a skill that enlightened a career path for me in English that no one else I know would have ever thought of or even considered.

Perhaps I was born with this talent. But I do not believe that I would have grown so considerably if it were not for the countless stories and essays I spent all of my free time doing from elementary to the present. I do not mean to discredit the practice that it took me to get to this level that I am still trying to advance, but from helping others with their essays, it is evident to me that no one I am acquainted with shares the thought processes I do, when it comes to the subject of English. I am a writer, both mind and heart; my intellectual desires to better my writing skills drives me just as much as my fervent passion of writing novels for others to be influenced and captivated by.
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