I would appreciate it if you read this to the very end, and possibly add a comment.
I'm not sure if the story of how I became a writer is an odd or interesting one, but I've been thinking about some things lately, and I decided to share it with you all.
I was either nine or ten, and I had just began to see the use of computers. 90% of my friends had a MySpace. MSN Chat, or whatever, and even though I didn't exactly want those, I wanted to "surf the web" all on my own. So, after much begging of my parents, I finally got an hour on our crappy old desktop. I was ecstatic. You want to know what the first thing I Googled was?
"Pokemon Sir Aaron love story."
I had just gotten the movie Pokemon: Lucario and the Mystery of Mew. I had "fallen in love," or what my young mind deemed as love, with the character of Sir Aaron. Why I decided to type in "love story," I'll never really know, but it lead me to this little site called Fanfiction.net. The first fanfiction I ever read was one titled "R.O.A.D: Return of Aaron Dragon!" by MR. Duellist. I'm pretty sure they deleted their profile, but that story was what made me fall in love with fanfiction, and the idea of writing.
So, I thought to myself, let's do a little of this ourselves, Bridget!
I found a notebook and immediately began my own fanfiction--a tale of me being the strongest Trainer to have ever lived, and everyone loved me. I made myself into the most Mary Sue-ish thing you could think of...and Mew was my mother. Yep. My ten-year-old brain was a creative genius.
Anyway. I wrote a lot of crappy little fanfics in a multitude of notebooks over the year of sixth grade, and I slowly began to become more infatuated with writing. I believed I had a talent for it, per se, and decided that it would be the career I would pursue. By the time seventh grade rolled around, I was the most weeaboo little freak you could ever think of. I ran like the ninjas do in Naruto during PE. I pretended I was an alchemist like Edward Elric. I daydreamed about defeating all the bullies at my school with my team of legendary Pokemon. I talked about anime, manga, fanfiction and the like NON. STOP. And that's when everyone at my small Catholic school of twenty people per class began to shun me even more than they already did. I had always been the center of bullying because I had the tendency to be a crybaby and have an overactive imagination that presented itself constantly during school, so my new love for anime and fanfiction and the like just gave them their ultimate weapon to use against me.
I tolerated the bullying in seventh grade with my head held high because I believed that once I was a successful writer, everyone would look back on those days and feel guilty. But deep inside? It hurt. I felt like my heart was tearing into every time I was ridiculed by my classmates, friends, and even teachers. My Catholic school always preached "God's love" and all that shit, but frankly it was the exact opposite. I think that's when my love for demonic things and general dislike of religion truly began--as a well to "rebel" against a system that was supposed to make me feel better, but when in fact it did the complete opposite.
Eighth grade year, I had toned down a bit. I had begun to post my stories on Fanfiction.net (all Naruto, of course), and people liked them. That had satisfied me, so I kept my fangirlish ways inside me more than I had the previous year. A good friend of mine joined me in my fanfiction endeavor, and we believed ourselves to be the most popular Naruto fanfiction authors ever.
Then high school came.
Freshman year, I was scared, unsure, and just all-around petrified of what to do. My high school isn't that big, really, but I had come from a small Catholic school where we had been with the same group of kids for eight years. It was a tough change for me. To make matters worse...my friend who wrote stories with me completely abandoned me. She called me childish and immature, and threw away the notebooks we had been working on for almost two years. She didn't want to be around me, because she was scared that if I talked one word about anime or manga, her new jock friends would look at her like the freak I was. I was completely distraught. I cried every day when I came home from school, and I slowly began to withdraw from everyone around me. That's when my depression really decided to rear its ugly head and give me a formal hello, and it's never really left me to this day, either.
Eventually we patched things up, but I had learned some hard lessons. One: to not overdue it when talking about the world of anime in public, because let's be honest...a lot of the world despises it. Two: that my stories were absolutely overdone and idiotic, and it was a shame I became "popular" on them. Three: I had to start focusing on original stories and not fanfiction if I wanted to become a famous writer.
And so began my struggle to attempt to be a mature writer. I tried to start my own stories, but they always fell flat, and I would lose interest. So, I went back to fanfiction, and this time I tried my hardest to make everything a believable, not over-done story that I would be proud of when people enjoyed it. I still made a lot of mistakes, of course, but I like to believe I was slowly getting better with my words.
And then sophomore year approached. The year I found Hetalia.
The weeaboo in me returned.
I became obsessed. Ideas constantly floated into my head, and I was always thinking about Hetalia. Hetalia became my drug. It was unhealthy. I started to overdo it yet again with talking about my love for anime and manga in public, and my friends got increasingly annoyed. And I was too thick headed to see it.
And then, low and behold, I found a new style of writing that I immediately took a liking too...
They were fascinating to a little weeaboo freak like me. A story where you are the main character? And one where your favorite characters lavish steamy romance onto you? I loved every aspect of it. I began to write nothing but fanservice-y reader inserts, and that's when my Hetalia "fame" truly began. I forgot about my previous declare to write fanfictions that would carry some semblance of a message with them, and became focused on only reader inserts and smut and fluff and everything that anyone out of the Hetalia fandom cringes at. I became one of "those" writers--the ones that I now shake my head at sadly.
But the happiness writing reader inserts and plotless smut gave me was just a bandage for a disease. My depression came back in full force because suddenly I realized, "This is not what I promised myself I was going to do with my life." All those original story ideas I had wanted to write down were gone, replaced by nothing but make out scenes and poorly written sex. I tried my damnedest to continue being the fanservice writer I had become, but it was no use. To me, writing was the only thing I could do, and here I was, fucking it all up.
During the summer, I broke down. Hard. I hated myself for what I had become. I felt childish. Stupid. Immature. Everything I had told myself I was going to grow out of. I cried constantly. I continuously wanted to hurt myself. Everything started to fall apart, because yet again I had withdrawn and become a hermit who did nothing but sit in her house all day and write stupid, useless fanfiction rather than hanging out with the friends I tried so hard to keep.
Fastforward to a few months ago, when the lemon purge happened. I was pissed--utterly, extremely pissed. "THIS STUFF MADE ME POPULAR AND NOW THEY'RE GONE OH MY FUCKING GOD MY LIFE IS OVER." That was pretty much what ran through my head for an entire day.
But then...I thought about it.
What's the use of writing smut and the like? It's nothing but plotless fanservice that really gets you nowhere in life. Especially when it's fanfiction. I looked back on my writing and became completely disgusted with myself--hell, I almost deleted everything in a fit of revulsion. But then I calmed down, and in the span of five minutes, I'd like to say I matured.
I decided to write as correctly and properly as I could so I could still say things like "learn how to write" and be justified, since I would make the same mistakes I constantly belittled in others' writing. I decided to stop with the fanservice, and for the remainder of my fanfiction career, I would try to always write something that either had some sort of message or was just absolutely as original as possible. I felt like it would be the best thing to slowly worm my way out of the depression I had put myself into. At last, I began my hand at poetry and the like, and found I truly enjoyed it.
Now, all I need to do is seriously start working on the original stories that have piled up in the back of my mind; one day finish them, and take them to get published, and...hope for the best.
So that's the story of my writing career from then to now. I left quite a few things out, but this journal has already become obnoxiously long, so that's okay.
...I really would appreciate a word or two if you read this whole thing. It feels good to finally get this off of my chest, and I just want to see what people think of it.