A story I am writing.

August 3, 2009

I have stories in my head. All wanna-be writers do, I think, maybe they’re even like mine, crazy detailed, down to what the characters look like and where they’re standing when the action happens, like a snippet from a movie that haunts you forever. I still think of a story I wrote when I was 15, a story about a girl and a boy, and it’s the story I want to write. I feel like that same girl and boy haunt every story that comes to my mind. I don’t know if I could write lots of books, I just want to write one book. One book, with a strong sense of place.

But really, I’m fairly certain every frustrated blogger out there, famous or not, is just absolutely dying to write a story. A story you know? Either it’s story of them or the story that’s in their head, but either way it’s a story, and they’re dying to get it out, and they keep writing and writing, and sometimes it’s good and other times it’s hollow, and the awesome writers, it resonates either way…and we’re all trying to be an awesome one and have our story resonate whether it’s real or imagined, beautifully written or hammered out through tears or laughter or both, you know?

So there’s a story in my head right now. And I want to write it. But I’ve tried writing other stories that have been haunting me, and as soon as I start writing them it’s like they dry up and disappear.  Then I don’t love them anymore, and the characters feel false and empty. I keep hoping that with every story that dries up and disappears, the next one that’s coming will be better for it. That I’m going to run into the same kink and suddenly realize how to straighten it out.

I don’t think I’m ready to start writing this one, yet. Maybe the longer I wait, the better it will get, and if that’s not the case, then it probably wasn’t any good, right?



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