'The Moment I Knew I Wanted to be a Writer' by Matt Anderson

Any moderately successful or slightly talented writer remembers The Moment. The moment they felt an undying passionate fire ignite their soul. The moment an eloquent voice entered their subconscious and permeated their psyche with loquacious language and juxtapositional jabberwocky. The moment they knew: they were destined to be a writer.

William Shakespeare’s moment was presumably when he wrote his first play: Henry V, at 25 years old. Amateur.

When he was nine, Charles Dickens watched his father get arrested before being sent to work in a blacking factory until he was a teenager. He notes that this experience inspired several of his novels. Bit bleak but okay.

Jane Austen used to read novels aloud with her sister and perform them as plays at only 12 years old. Shortly after, she began writing her own. Pretty cringe, am I right?

Sure, these authors are some of the most revered of our time and sure, some of their work is okay. But their inspiring stories are lacklustre and - if you ask me - they all began their writing careers waaaayy too late. My origin story (if you will) transpired much earlier. I knew I wanted to be a writer from the moment I was born - no! - the moment I existed.

I remember it clearly. So clearly in fact, when I shut my eyes it feels like I’ve instantly returned there. The dark, gloomy interior; the warm fuzzy temperature; and of course, who could forget that hospital-like smell of amniotic fluid. My days in the womb were indeed some of my most productive. Stuck inside with no distractions from the outside world, no cretins forcing superficial conversation upon me, and no fabricated deadlines for my work. I didn’t even have to worry about food breaks or quick stops to the loo, all of that was taken care of for me. Which means I had all the time in the world to focus on what was important: my craft.

Once my brain started forming, I began creating characters and placing them into dynamic narrative situations in my head. I would imagine how these conflicts would play out and resolve, keeping the most entertaining ones logged away for later. Filing away all of these diﬀerent plots did start to pose a challenge after a while, however, after several more weeks I developed fingers and was able to write the lustrous tales down, freeing up more critical brain space.

The unfortunate hinderance with my pregnancy-bound productivity was that I had no experience of the outside world, and thus, no reference on what work had/had not already been produced. This slipped me up in several diﬀerent instances and was the main reason that - after birth - my initial portfolio was not larger. It still saddens me to think that some hack named George Orwell had already written a story starring intelligent farm animals who develop an egalitarian society.

However, in my story Napoleon was not a pig, but a particularly fierce goose…Also my title for the novel was Four-Legged Dystopian Socialism, much more creative than Animal Farm, but I digress.

Once I was ejected into the outside world, I thanked my mother for carrying me and congratulated the doctor on what I could only imagine was a top-notch delivery. I was then cleaned up and given some milk before heading right back to the ol’ grindstone. Once I was introduced to these excellent machines named laptops, my creative juices went into maximum overdrive and I was able to produce many more novels than previously able. This advancement allowed me to write and publish my first epic fantasy trilogy before I was out of nappies.

So yes, all writers are diﬀerent, and yes, we all need to start somewhere. These points are definitely true and no person should ever feel pressured by their ability or feel like they’re too late to the game. There is always time to be the best writer you’re able to be. All of that sappy nonsense is true and not the point I am trying to make. The main thing I want you all to take away from this piece is that the next time somebody tries to perk you up by using the phrase “Nobody is born great,” just remember that I was.

Edited by Conrad Gardner