From Crayon to Keyboard – and Everything in Between

“You’re going to be a journalist, go places, and write stories that make a difference,” I told myself determinedly in high school. Back then, it felt like a faraway, comforting dream, something that just felt right, something I could smile contentedly at the thought of before falling asleep. And now, here I am, three years later, attempting to fulfill that very ambition by pursuing an undergraduate college degree in journalism. How did I get here, and who am I as a writer?

Writing, especially in English, has always come naturally to me, and I have been passionate about it for as long as I can remember. English was my favorite subject throughout school, and something I never had to work hard for. As a child my health issues constrained me from pursuing physical, outdoor activities, so I resorted to reading books, and grew a love for them like no other. My mother is very well-versed in the English language, and her effortless flair and passion for both the spoken and written word, along with her enthusiasm and support for my inclination towards reading, inspired me to believe that language is fun, easy and fascinating. The earliest memory I have of discovering my love for writing was in Year 3, when I wrote my very first fictional short story in crayon about a girl that visits Santa Claus’ gift-making factory on Christmas Eve. Surprisingly enough, this was not for a school assignment. Instead, I did it to explore a style of writing emulating my favorite childhood author Enid Blyton, whose books I adored reading.

My writing style evolved as I began writing cathartic and personal diary entries to cope with being bullied in middle school. As I transitioned to adolescence, I read more personal, comical books, such as Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Dork Diaries, which dealt with the awkward hilarity of the struggles of being a teenager. Because these were so relatable, they managed to majorly influence and change my writing style. Humor became my first instinct while writing creatively, and my character’s thoughts and feelings began to play striking roles in my writing. In early high school, I delved into more complex books that allowed me to explore fictional accounts situated in real-world themes and genres, such as relationships, politics, technology, education and culture. My favorite book for the longest time was The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, which mulled over various grave and uncomfortable subjects, such as sacrifice, war, relationships and loyalty.

As I moved to Year 11 and 12, my attention span, pityingly enough, began to shorten. Like every other Gen-Z kid that has grown up thriving in a digital era surrounded by social media platforms, I succumbed to visual storytelling and entertainment. Movies, YouTube videos and TV shows took over my life, leaving storybooks behind in my shelf to catch dust. This, however, did not mean that I stopped writing. My First Language English GCSE and A-Level board exams in high school trained me to adopt a strong narrative voice in my writing, and inculcate rich, vivid descriptions. Argumentative and informative essays, too, were part of the syllabi for these exams. However, I was not expected to consult any reliable sources of information to back my ideas up in these essays. Essentially, as long as I could produce logically sound, concise and well-organized arguments from my pre-existing knowledge of assigned topics, I could get away with passing off legitimate-sounding “facts” as supporting evidence, because the curriculum did not ask us to focus on the credibility of those arguments, but more on the structure and organization of the essay. Furthermore, although my school curriculum inherently encourages critical thinking, my predominantly South Asian high school teachers, used to a cultural education system fueled by rote learning and memorizing textbook information without questioning it, highly discouraged “out-of-the-box” answers while grading our mock exams. Hence, plagiarism was not necessarily condemned or looked down upon. I graduated high school with straight As, comfortably floating in my bubble of what it means to be a good writer, and blissfully unaware of what would come my way in university.

As a college freshman, I encountered real, genuine academic writing for the first time, forcing me to unlearn most of my high school knowledge. I was thrown into a deep end of unfamiliar academic expectations, such as crediting borrowed and researched information; in- text citations, annotated bibliographies and references meant that, for the first time, my ideas had to be credible and not seem credible. It was, at first, quite surprising and exhausting how stringently consistent source citations and references are expected to be in research papers, along with the specificity and intricacy of their syntaxes. Funnily enough, these conventions are now what I fall back on for a decent grade in my research papers; attempting to perfect the content has become more intimidating.

As addressed in one of our readings, Raising Questions About Plagiarism by Kurt Bouman, I also struggled to meet conflicting academic expectations in my research papers; I had to consult experts and authoritative sources, but I also had the freedom to challenge their views and findings, which I had never done before; I had to improve my academic English by imitating existing research texts, but I also had to use my own words; and I had to show that I have done research, but I also had to make significant original contributions. I dreaded paraphrasing; at times, it was frustrating trying to manipulate and simplify an expert’s jargon while struggling to comprehend it myself. These difficulties contributed to a tumultuous journey in scrambling to find myself as an academic writer in my freshman year. I remember being rather surprised at a C+ in one of my WRI102 essays; it felt unreal to see myself score so low in a course all about writing. After all, wasn’t I always so effortlessly good at it? Doesn’t my major, journalism, revolve around writing? I tumbled into major self-doubt, questioning my ability to write. I felt like an impostor, wondering whether I was good enough to pursue a full-time career in writing.

What I failed to realize as a freshman was that I had a long way to go. After having taken more than ten courses that required me to produce APA-style research papers, I have now settled comfortably in a peaceful cocoon of academic writing experience. I realized what a long way I came when my ENG204 research paper received an A; it addressed the positive and negative effects of the Hindi film industry on Indian societies – a topic I am rather passionate about and genuinely wanted to research. It is a piece of academia I can always look back to and pat myself on the back for.

I also failed to realize that academic writing is not a representation of my competence as a journalist. Media writing is quite different from academic writing. Mass communication, as the name suggests, caters to a “mass,” or wide, audience, hence the language adopted is as short, direct, simple and succinct as possible. As an aspiring journalist and media worker, I am ethically obliged to seek the truth and report it objectively in my writing, keeping myself out of my story as much as possible. My writing should minimize harm and treat sources, subjects, colleagues and members of the public as human beings deserving of respect. My writing should solely serve the public and not myself in any way. Lastly, I should be accountable for what I write and explain my reporting decisions to the public.

So, who am I as a writer? I am flexible and agile, having blossomed from the numerous paradoxes of being a writer in various, complex situations. I recognize certain limits, but I know I can push others. I can keep myself alive and shining in my writing, but I realize when to step down and let other characters take charge. I am creative, but not with the truth. I can appreciate and acknowledge great minds and figures, but I can also criticize and question them.