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Writing came naturally to me. I’m not a professional or anything of the sort, it’s just that the process has always been consistently enjoyable and simple to perform. I considered myself an above-average writer, and had confidence in my abilities. That is, until I got into 8th grade. The majority of my articles this year have been, to say the least, painful to read. They weren’t horrible. They were just held down by boring topics and a lack of motivation. But I’ve come to understand lately that it’s because of my constant, meager attempts that I’ve slowly improved and built upon my skills and habits. Brainstorming for ideas isn’t nearly as hard as it used to be. My vocabulary has stretched and expanded. And although it’s important to see and appreciate progress, it’s just as vital to look back upon mistakes (like you) to learn and understand how they helped you in the first place.

In the beginning, my articles were gross and written half-heartedly. Movie “reviews”, life guides, informative essays, none of them had any drive. I absolutely HATED writing them, and I cut corners in every single one to reach the word limit. My use of transitions were lacking. My attempts at humor were pitiful. The thought of reading them fills me with dread, and nothing would make me happier than if they laid there forgotten. My articles are my ultimate weakness. God forbid if I were to be outed for my naiveté and socially slaughtered.

After my late start, I was able to achieve stability between procrastinating and working. The articles I made during this period would barely meet the 8th grade standards, and I couldn’t have cared less. They were made with little to no passion, and I mostly lied my way through to the finish line each week. Each one consumed a couple of hours of my free time. When I couldn’t think of anything, I either stole an idea or produced some trash. I often put intense research into my articles back then to make up for my apparent lack of enthusiasm. While they certainly brought me no joy, they helped me scrape by in the meantime and were sufficient to keep my grade up.

Despite my early handicap of being a lazy moron, I’ve been blessed with the reward of achieving greatness and writing some pieces I’m actually proud of. I’ve slowly gotten better and better at writing stuff I actually enjoy now, and the entire experience is now less mindless. Yours truly is a genius and has written flows of poetry and Disney magic that would really coodle your scadoodle. I’ve learned how to brainstorm topics, write mediocre intros, and satisfyingly end my essays. To be honest, Journalism has taught me how to write effective essays just as well as, if not more than, all the English classes I’ve ever been enrolled in. I’ve gained an abundance of experience this school year, and a significant portion can be attributed to this class.

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