On writing.

Words have always meant the world to me. They have been my only friend, my solace, and my weapon when I needed one. Being able to write down my thoughts and feelings, even if only for my own eyes, has always brought me peace. In recent years, that peace has been disturbed and replaced with the turmoil of the worst creative block I have ever lived with.

Growing up, I always carried pen and paper with me. If I needed to jot down an idea that came into my head, I would refer to it later. I would refine and mold those ideas into something either spectacular or awful, though I was the only judge, since most of my works didn't reach the eyes of others until many years later.

I grew comfortable writing stories about other people - their struggles, their strife, their accomplishments. Writing someone else's story makes it very easy to forget your own, and unfortunately, I fell victim to that trap. While promoting the works of others, I forgot about myself.

At twenty-five years of age, I am now five years from my last nationally published writing work. Tonight, I broke out my paper portfolio and flipped through the pages, remembering how it felt every time I ran to a bookstore in search of one of my pieces. I would look through the magazine racks in calculation, looking for that fresh, crisp cover. Once I had it in my hands, I would flip through each and every page until reading my name. I didn't care about the editing or how my words may have changed. Seeing my name in something that reached beyond either my computer screen or shelf of notebooks was, and has always been, incredibly surreal. It has given me a sense of accomplishment unmatched by anything before or since. It has been everything to me.

For years, it was my identity. I was hungry to do more and be more, though continued to write humbling album and product reviews and sidebars. I grew complacent. Once in a great while, I would receive e-mail from an editor or reader praising my work, and even asking how I got where I was. It was both refreshing and inspiring, and I have always loved to share my experience with others.

Writing has never been easy for me, especially not emotionally. In recent years, I fell victim to the trap of not feeling good enough, not wanting to put myself out there in fear of ridicule or negativity. I have struggled since my last article was published in 2008 to shut off the part of my personality that has grown to need that validation.

Apparently, that switch is irrevocably broken.

In order to regain my comfort and focus, I opted to start at the beginning of my freelance writing career once again - AMP Magazine, based out of California. I picked up an interview for their upcoming issue, and will be working on that in the week to come. The familiarity of working with someone I grew used to as an editor, and the routine of a magazine I got to know very well makes me feel safe. I know what I'm doing, as I've done the same thing many times prior.

Not long after taking on this project, I sent off an e-mail to a fellow freelancer about taking part in a tattoo-related article she is working on for another publication - an article that has become near to my heart in the past weeks, certainly. Just this evening, I was on the receiving end of interview questions. Once it was finished, we planned upcoming collaborations, as well. Keep your eye on this space, as once I have more information I will be happy to give it.

Even if you give up on your story, your story will never give up on you. Don't get bored. Keep doing what you love, no matter what anyone, and most of all, your head tells you. Life life with head held high. Get rad and stay that way, it's the only way you'll survive.