I, Writer

To me, writing is the lover that got away. It started as love at first sight, but as time went we drifted apart. My relationship with writing has had its ups and downs. We have disappeared from each other but are slowly finding our way back. As years went by I have changed, and so did my perception and my need for writing. I found it when I was looking for myself, and it had helped me.

I grew up in Israel. I lived in three different cities off the coast of the Mediterranean. My mother had Ahevat Nedudim, which simply translates as the love of travel. She didn’t stay in one place for more than a few years. My father, my siblings, and I were dragged behind her as she wandered around our small country, looking for a place to call home. When we landed in our final destination before moving to NYC I found journalism. I had a passion for the Hebrew language and a passion for revealing the truth. I was set on a mission to start my middle school’s first newspaper. Unfortunately, by the time I was able to recruit a team to run the paper, and received official approval from the principal, I moved with my family to New York.    

With the move, so did my feelings to journalism, and at that point, I wanted to become a writer. I felt as if my identity was stripped away once I started living in New York and I didn’t want that to happen. I focused my free time on writing and developing a storyline and characters for my novel. Writing had kept me intact with whom I wanted to be. Eventually, as I became more immersed in American culture I stopped writing. It was only years later that I picked up again. This time as poetry. 

Poetry came to me when I didn’t even realize. In my graphic design class in junior year of high school, we were asked to keep a journal. The journal could’ve included anything from drawings to writing and anything in between, with the condition we use it every day. I started writing little anecdotes including poems and instantly filled the pages of my journal. Once I entered my first year at college, I began a new form of writing and that involved writing that was less arbitrary and had a set topic. I wrote essays for my creative classes and explained my work or summarized other’s work. This form of writing ended when I transferred schools.

I experimented with blogging. Writing is my husband and cooking is my mistress. I wanted to introduce the two, and as much as I hoped they will get along, it didn’t end well. I am back to creative writing. I am dipping my toes in screenwriting as well. I love the ability to show the viewers what I mean. That they take a look in my brain and see what I am seeing, the way I describe character, emotions and events that never happened.

My writing might change in the next couple of months, but it will stay writing. Ink on paper, and words that could mean nothing or everything, depending on who reads it.