I used to be a person who believed that an interesting life was necessary for interesting writing. I avoided writing about my own life experiences because I felt they were unfit for a story. The most memorable books that I had read were about people who had grown up in a war-torn environment, who had been imprisoned in an insane asylum, or who had committed unforgivable sins. Where were the people with average life events? They never existed in these narratives. Where were the characters who had been raised by middle-class parents in mundane Brighton, Michigan? My life seemed unworthy of a story.

I'm not sure what changed for me, but the more I wrote personal narratives in college, the more I came to appreciate what I had to say. The events themselves did not change, but the way I portrayed them did. I began to tell my stories with a characteristic passion. Using language, I could control their power and their perception. The events in my life may not be monumental, but they are my life events. They are all I know, and only I can tell them.

Linked below are two personal narratives written during my time at the University of Michigan. "The White Page" was written during my sophomore year and seeks to answer (perhaps prematurely) why I write. "The Yellow Raincoat" is my most proud writing to date. It gives my account of my sister's eating disorder and explores familial love. Click the grey buttons to begin reading.