So it’s finally July. It is that time of the year I feel obligated to put together a wish list for my birthday so I can, you know, casually
pressure drop hints about what friends and family can give to me come the 27th. Let me take this moment to tell you what I don’t like to receive:
- make-up (I will point you to this video to show you why.)
- a dress / skirt (You obviously do not know me very well if you’re even thinking of giving me one.)
- stuffed toy (I can’t even… Argh!)
That was a tangent because I’m here to actually talk about writing, only because I have been writing (again) pretty recently. I started to continue what I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year. I am no good with finishing a story. I’m terrible with writing, actually. I mean, I start something and then shove it aside. But this time… I don’t know what possessed me. The medium-sized, black spiral notebook that has been sitting on my bed for months glared and then glared some more at me, reminding me of a promised story that I have yet to finish. I left it lying around for months and months until one day, I just picked it up, read it and started to write a new scene. And in between reading about writing and actually writing, I managed to finish the story. I’m not saying it’s any good. (So much self-doubt!) I’m just saying it’s finished and the relief I felt was immediately followed by a sense of accomplishment. I have finally finished a story! After struggling for years to write that particular piece, the one thing I thought would never happen, happened. Yay! *does a tap dance*
Am I ready to let my story out, have someone else’s pair of eyes read it? Actually, I already did. Given the chance, I would ramble on about the setting of the story (a fictional place called Maroon Island) and the things I’ve done to get from Point A to Point B. But I’ll spare you the agonizing details. Instead, here’s a brief piece I wrote which inspired me to push through with the Maroon story. (Does it mean it’s still unfinished because I have no title for it yet?)
The journey of starting a story (a novel, a short fiction, etc.) is really something else. You begin with a set of random ideas bouncing around your head. Then things happen to you in real life — perhaps a commercial on TV caught your eye and your writer’s mind began to spin a story from it or a news beat about a local crime prompted you to tell a tale about a high-school overnight trip gone awry — and you draw from those things. You begin collecting bits and pieces and you proceed to flesh out words, slowly but surely shaping a scene, molding a character or two. Then you continue to write, day in and day out. On some days, the world is hell and probably you took some time off from writing, only to realize you’re more miserable without writing. So you go back to writing and, well, as they say, the rest is history.
How did you feel when you finally finished a story? Not necessarily your first story. What was your creative process during that time? I always love hearing about others’ experience with writing; feel free to comment away.