By author: Audrey Hinds
Since I was about 12 years old writing poetry at my kitchen table, I knew without a doubt that I was meant to be author. I knew I was meant to dream beyond the small town where I lived in Dinwiddie, VA. I knew that writing would serve not only as a means of expressing myself, but it would offer a comfort beyond anything I had ever experienced back then. I can still recall writing poem after poem and eagerly stumbling over the words as I shared with my dad. The idea that I could create something out of nothing or that I could bring a journal to life and that I could experience moments as far as my imagination would take me was exhilarating.
Writing allowed me to see the world with a fresh perspective each day and inspired me to appreciate my surroundings. I was especially intrigued by nature and would often find my happy place planted right on my front porch looking into the distance of the heavily wooded county as deer and rabbits hopped along. During those times, I would imagine being an author or writing for a newspaper. I’d send off books of poetry only to have it returned by kind publishers who encouraged me to keep at it. It was disheartening back then, but I decided giving up wasn’t an option because out of all the occupations in the world writing was the only one, I wanted to do. Thankfully, by age fifteen my dreams turned into reality when I was given the opportunity to write for our local community newspaper, The Progress Index, as a Junior Journalist.