At first, I thought that I was some amazing writing prodigy, made from the same mold as Jane Austen and J.K. Rowling. I imagined myself reveiling my works to stunned publishers, showing them how amazing I was at such a young age.
Then I discovered the internet, the TennInk, then Honors English. I found out that while I had talent, I was no better than millions of other writers in the United States. I was good, not great, not fantastic. While I had been daydreaming about the books that I would write sometime in my teenage years, millions of other teens were already publishing works.
I realized that I wasn't special. Then again, neither were those other teens. We were all just a cluster of young kids with good imaginations and dictonary, not to mention a lot of free time of our hands. I was just another wannabe, trying to write a book.
Then the pressure came. First from friends, saying things like, "So when are you going to be famous?" Then the pressure from the family, with remarks like, "When you become a famous author, our money issues will be solved". And then the comments from the uninvolved family friends, with little words of encouragment and lots of critizisms like, "For someone so talented, the book should be done by now".
I didn't have the heart to tell them that I was no different from the others.
Then the inspiration for a new dream came in the form of a high school teacher. The idea that I could travel, meet fascinating people, take breathtaking photographs, and then write short articles about my adventures.
"Marina," they all encouraged me. "You can do this".
So I have a new dream. To be a reporter for some renowned magazine, traveling from one side of the earth to the other, recording my experiences every step of the way. And maybe, just maybe, this idea is the the key to getting me out of my little town and sending me on new adventures.