Students 2.0

The students of Students 2.0 would like to extend a warm welcome to Kaelie Giffel, our newest author. Please enjoy her debut post below.

Inspiration is a fickle thing. Sometimes it hits you like a truck, and other times it swerves off the road to avoid you. I know an art teacher who has a quote about inspiration on his wall as a rule: “Inspiration is lazy. Don’t wait for it.” That has been my inspiration, my drive to continue writing even through the stress of high school.

Writing in high school is like walking through a mine field without getting hurt—it’s difficult, but possible. I find myself making difficult decisions regarding how to spend my time. I have a constant homework load, because of my AP social studies class, and it isn’t something I can put off for a night. It always comes back to haunt me in a failing quiz grade. So, I use class time to write. It took me a few weeks to figure out that English class is the dead zone for writing (much like the dead zone for electronics in Siberia). American literature is bad enough for my brain cells, let alone my creativity.

Everyone in high school has some sort of creative outlet: music, books, writing, athletics, science. (The last two may not seem creative, but I’ve utilized both; they take a different kind of creativity.) Writing and music are the most common. In the middle of writing Tarot Cards and Black Roses, my first novel, someone said something to me that put a halt to the book’s production. She said, “You’re a writer? I am, too! We should share our work!” In that second, the cold truth hit me: I’m not the only teenage writer in the world.

It was an odd thought, because it sounded so general, but it in my mind it was specific. I didn’t mean bloggers, poets, or young journalists; I meant the supernatural writers who delved into the darker part of the world. The thought hurt. It really did. How was I so stupid? Why did I believe that I was unique? My beloved story became just a really big file on my computer that I refused to tend to.

I sulked for two months, trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t as unique as I thought I was. At the end of the two months, I got my butt into gear. I wasn’t the only student writer trying to get published, but that was a horrible excuse to use for not writing. I needed to get over myself because the sweet seductress inspiration was calling to me. I was unique because I was fulfilling my dream. I could write a novel and finish it. I had the drive and the endless encouragement of my support network.

Never in my life has someone straight up told me I couldn’t do something. All my friends and relatives want me to be a writer. They think it’s a very good possibility for my career. My dad’s favorite question is, “How’s that novel coming?” Even my teachers have encouraged me. Except once. Early in the year, I told my teacher (in response to a question she asked) that I wanted a career in creative writing. The look she gave me said everything I knew she wouldn’t say aloud. It was a look that whispered, Abandon your dream. That’s not going to happen. That broke my heart. After that day, I picked up my writing with a vengeance.

The best way to motivate a stubborn person is to tell them they can’t. Because they will do exactly what you told them they couldn’t and they will exceed previous expectations. I continued my novel for one reason: to prove I could. That mindset is what propels me through the novel, even when my well of inspiration has dried.