The horridness of trying to write

So, some of you might be aware that I am a highly imaginative person. I come up with random stories on a regular basis, with characters and everything. What some of you might not know is that I’ve actually finished writing books already. I will never share them, because they are in the encyclopedia next to “a terrible story”, because while their plots were whole, the rest of the book was so jumpy and blah that it is no more than a frame work. Essentially, if I would ever use those stories, I would need to scratch it all and just rewrite them, which would take a long time, because this time, I would do it right.

I had kind of put my story-writing days behind me when I came down to Nashville, but the other night, in honor of the author Stephenie Meyer, turned on some Muse. And before I knew it, I had written eight pages of a new story. Here’s the beginning: I know, it’s fantastic.

IN THE BEGINNING, there was a boy, and there was a girl. As tragically boring as that sounds, in the heart of it all, that is all any story comes down to. Star crossed lovers, fighting to be together as hard as the world tries to keep them apart. It is remarkably simple, complicated only by the inventions of their minds, providing reasons to split apart. This heart of a story, prevalent in all genres, is all together so unremarkable that it is difficult to understand the appeal. People run for the known, embracing the fairytale endings and eventual promise of forever. The unknown and uncertain cause even the bravest to run with tails between their legs.

The first line was what really started it all. That was the first thing that popped into my head, and as I typed, these characters started acting out their lives in my head, and now I know where they’re going. It’s also one of those books that has a “Book One” and “Book Two” within the book, although I have really only made the pages for the two of those and haven’t done a ton of work on the book itself. When I find a scene that happened, I write it in, and eventually everything will slide together. At least, I hope it does. That’s the endgame here.

For some of you who have read my writings before, this is a completely different style than that of what I’ve normally done. It’s much drier, I would say, but not necessarily hard to read. If you’re not a big reader, maybe it is, because it’s not just everyday talk, but I like it. Kind of a nod to the olden days of books, I feel.

As if it wasn’t enough to be writing one book, I’ve been going back and revisiting characters from two other books that I wrote (they were part of a “series”, if you want to call them that) and starting to work on that story. It might seem a little counter-productive to be working on more than one book at a time, but it’s almost better. If I get stuck on one, I’m certainly not stuck on the other. My biggest problem is, although I write it all in my head, it’s sometimes a struggle to get it all down on paper (or on my computer, as in this case). The story I stuck in above isn’t as big of an issue, but the other one I’ve started to work on is more of a sci-fi book, so much of the stuff going on would work better conveyed to the big screen. It’s hard to describe some of the stuff, because no matter how well I describe it, you’ll see it differently than I intended it. And there’s some major action scenes, too, and those are nearly impossible to write.

Speaking of impossible to write, I hate romance scenes. My above story (working title – Something in a Name) is obviously going to feature a few, but I find it just so darn hard to write them. It’s the bit of modesty in me that I have issues of going outside – I try to keep everything very vague, just out of habit. It makes me uncomfortable when I have to read a kissing scene, and it’s even worse when I try to write one. Honestly, I think it’s because it is such an emotional thing – kissing, I mean – that it’s not something that can necessarily be transferred to paper without losing something, and that’s where it gets awkward. Regardless, I hate writing them. Almost as much as I hate writing essays.

To top it off, there’s two other past-stories that I want to revisit (I have a good idea where one goes, the other not so much), but they’re not as developed as the two I’m working on now. One (two) at a time. We’ll see if I can get these first two done, first.



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