Was I on fire too? Of course not, but I felt a wave of this somewhat burning sensation flood my blood vessels, slowly streaming its way to my skin while collecting parts of my flesh that were perhaps still reactive. The blank screen on the television occupied me while I tried to disregard how loud the door had gotten with every new creak. My brain received a message from the goosebumps on my arms that the room was suddenly thirty degrees cooler, but strangely the air conditioning vent in the hallway kept turning on and off. The clock began to tick more blatantly in efforts to compete with the loud, creaking door, as I looked away from the words on my laptop frequently just to make sure the room I was surrounded in was still the same as it was before. The bathroom door seemed to have been pushed up a little bit more, maybe half an inch, or was it pushed back? Now that I think about it I don`t really recall if the bathroom door was even closed or open. At this point, my mind couldn`t decipher between. . . a spiritual realm or reality. The picture of my family and I at the aquarium seemed to have come to life but still was a picture at the same time; it`s hard to explain. The lights were a little dimmer; my phone buzzed more often, and for some reason I never answered it. I checked the hallway a few times, but no one had gotten back yet. Maybe I should have read this story in the library tomorrow morning instead of tonight, here by myself. In the comforts of my own dorm room, I felt like Mike Enslin in Stephen King`s 1408, and that`s when I knew I wanted to write horror fiction.
Many people never find an inspiration to write, but I found mine at the age of eighteen. It was my freshman year of college; I had to read 1408 for one of my literature classes. After reading it, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I`ve always loved English, both the reading and writing; however, I never quite knew what path English would take me. A school teacher never excited me; professor wasn`t it either, and a book just seemed like too much for me right now. The emotions a reader gains when he or she connects with a book, with any piece of literature, is utterly remarkable and simply irreplaceable. I learned bravery from Beowulf, fear from 1408, life principles from The Canterbury Tales, prejudice from To Kill a Mockingbird, women`s suffrage from Professions for Women, societal imprisonment from 1984 and unconditional love from Breaking Dawn.
I want readers to unravel life lessons that are in between the pages of each poem and prose through the feelings that they evoke. How one can experience fear when reading a certain novel but grasps insight of hope through a poem. Literature has impacted and influenced many social movements, such as civil rights and women`s suffrage, and I desire to implement those same intangible ideas and inspirations to form aspirations of promise through my writing. Is there any better way to influence the world than to possess the freedom of speech? Yes, when your truths become self-evident by using literature as your vessel, you become even more compelling and dominant. When the world can read a single instrument that allows them to apprehend your values in life ultimately making you a substantial influence, what better inspiration do you need?