When I write I can shake off all my cares.
Wednesday, 5 April 1944
My dearest Kitty,
For a long time now I didn’t know why I was bothering to do any schoolwork. The end of the war still seemed so far away, so unreal, like a fairy tale. If the war isn’t over by September, I won’t go back to school, since I don’t want to be two years behind.
Peter filled my days, nothing but Peter, dreams and thoughts until Saturday night, when I felt so utterly miserable; oh, it was awful. I held back my tears when I was with Peter, laughed uproariously with the van Daans as we drank lemon punch and was cheerful and excited, but the minute I was alone I knew I was going to cry my eyes out. I slid to the floor in my nightgown and began saying my prayers, very fervently. Then I drew my knees to my chest, lay my head on my arms and cried, all huddled up on the bare floor. A loud sob brought me back down to earth, and I choked back my tears, since I didn’t want anyone next door to hear me. Then I tried to pull myself together, saying over and over, “I must, I must, I must …” Stiff from sitting in such an unusual position, I fell back against the side of the bed and kept up my struggle until just before ten-thirty, when I climbed back into bed. It was over!
And now it’s really over. I finally realized that I must do my schoolwork to keep from being ignorant, to get on in life, to become a journalist, because that’s what I want! I know I can write. A few of my stories are good, my descriptions of the Secret Annexe are humorous, much of my diary is vivid and alive, but … it remains to be seen whether I really have talent.
“Eva’s Dream” is my best fairy tale, and the odd thing is that I don’t have the faintest idea where it came from. Parts of “Cady’s Life” are also good, but as a whole it’s nothing special. I’m my best and harshest critic. I know what’s good and what isn’t. Unless you write yourself, you can’t know how wonderful it is; I always used to bemoan the fact that I couldn’t draw, but now I’m overjoyed that at least I can write. And if I don’t have the talent to write books or newspaper articles, I can always write for myself. But I want to achieve more than that. I can’t imagine having to live like Mother, Mrs van Daan and all the women who go about their work and are then forgotten. I need to have something besides a husband and children to devote myself to! I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met. I want to go on living even after my death! And that’s why I’m so grateful to God for having given me this gift, which I can use to develop myself and to express all that’s inside me!
When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived! But, and that’s a big question, will I ever be able to write something great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer?
I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, because writing allows me to record everything, all my thoughts, ideals and fantasies.
I haven’t worked on “Cady’s Life” for ages. In my mind I’ve worked out exactly what happens next, but the story doesn’t seem to be coming along very well. I might never finish it, and it’ll wind up in the wastepaper basket or the stove. That’s a horrible thought, but then I say to myself, “At the age of fourteen and with so little experience, you can’t write about philosophy.”
So onwards and upwards, with renewed spirits. It’ll all work out, because I’m determined to write!
Yours, Anne M. Frank
Extract from the book The Diary of a Young Girl
By Anne Frank
All rights reserved.
London: Penguin, 2000
Call Number: English 940.53 FRA
Extract contributed by Ivan Poh
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May 2nd, 2009 at 9:12 am
Sometimes (Ya, sure. Read most of the times) I struggle to get the exact right words. It must be limited vocabulary of course. Writing to express yourself honestly can be quite wrenching, not to mention time-consuming. But you do get a sense of release, almost like letting go of something that has been beating you awhile.
May 2nd, 2009 at 11:36 pm
Well, the way you write Victoria - doesn’t seem like a lack of vocabulary to me
I think the more we writes, the better we get. just like a personal diray entry - just write and wirte and write - as the thoughts come, you just spill it out on paper. Publishing professionally is different la - that is of course time-consuming cos’ must write for wider audience and not for yourself to read only. Think can get lots of inspiration from books.
May 15th, 2009 at 10:31 pm
I love to write.
For some reason I have not completely read Anne Frank yet, and this extract really whets my appetite for it.
She was such a good writer. She has fulfilled her dream because her diary is now a blessing to many others.
Anyone can blog and write. Anyone should. Let the words flow out of your fingers, and then edit them. I was writing with a typewriter when I was 14. Now that was hard, because we need a special eraser (tip-ex) to edit. It’s so much easier to write in Word or text file now.
May 15th, 2009 at 11:01 pm
I believe there is a writer in everyone - each life is a novel in itself. What is good or bad is after all subjective - even the best novelist has his or her bad day. Of course, reading more does help, so does writing more.
Writing, to me from as far back as I remember, was about releasing, or expressing one’s thoughts or emotions, or “sketching” an image or a scene - er, from primary school?
At one point, it was about the actualisation of the language - Gao Xingjian said this - where one obsessively, constantly struggle to find the right word, the right structure and order, till the words seem to lead you on, instead of your emotions or thoughts, or so it seems to me. That’s why some good novel without a proper plot will never make a good movie script, eg. Cormac Mccarthy’s The Road.
Then I began to enjoy the process, this tug-of-war between the words and the heart (ie emotions). Next, I began to appreciate this world in words, to see the beauty of nature and life described in words.
That was when I realised when one falls in love with writing, one in turn falls in love with life.
May 15th, 2009 at 11:51 pm
Or should I say, writing is living itself.
May 20th, 2009 at 8:08 am
Writing for me is an attempt to connect to another mind. It’s easier for me to write than to speak. In writing, there is always a structure, an order that you can go back to and revise. Words can’t be taken back.
June 6th, 2009 at 5:40 pm
I love to write, especially love letters. I used to sent articles to the local newspapers, that was during my secondary school days, just to earn some money. Now I want to do it properly as a writer. I know I have a way with words, but how can I publish my work? Now thats the problem which I need advise.
June 29th, 2009 at 2:39 am
Writing is the very essence of my soul, I daresay. And it has been since four years ago, when I found my passion in it. I believe that anyone and everyone can write, and it requires neither flowery language nor mastery of the English language. You just need a pen and a piece of paper and you’re all set to conjure up your own world of dreams, a perfect utopia or otherwise.
And I swear I didn’t get this from some cheesy self-help book.
July 17th, 2009 at 9:21 am
To me, writing is a form of escape. Writing takes me away from the horrid reality of the world I exist in.
Unfortunately, now somebody wants to control what I write, which is very distressing seeing as I’m only a teen.
August 8th, 2009 at 1:46 pm
Writing helps to express myself. Once in a while I’ll take up my pen and write in my notebook about a situation, how I feeel about it, what I think.
I write in my own style, the way I like it; from the use of words to my handwriting.
Years from now, I’ll take out these notebooks and remember these moments of my life, big or small.
August 11th, 2009 at 7:37 pm
Apart from the air that i breathe, the water that i drink and roof that shelters me, writing is the greaatest gift that’s been given to me. When i’m depressed or upset, happy or lost, it’s how i confide. I can’t live without pen & paper…
September 27th, 2009 at 7:08 pm
I have ever written something that made me change myself and my life better.
By writing, you may know yourself better besides doing self-reflection.