I have been writing since I was in elementary school. I mean, the creative kind, not the other. I have obviously been writing since before kindergarten… well, maybe not so obvious.. and look.. a bunny trail right off the bat. (I can already hear my wife saying “Focus”) Ok, so.. as I was saying.. writing, elementary, creative.. ok.. back on track.
In that time frame I have had hundreds of stories that I have wanted to write. Ideas so grand that they would have been spectacular to read. If… I could only get them out of my head. There are times when I come across a story and I look at my wife and say, “That was my story from 20 years ago.” or I see someone with a name that I created when I was a teenager and I tell her, “I made that name.”
Everytime I do, she has the same response. She looks at me lovingly, sorrow filling her eyes, sympathy spreading from her heart out towards me as she embraces me in a loving hug and pats my head and strokes my hair and tells me, “You should have written the story then.”
Ok, none of that is true, except for that last part. She totally just drives that nail straight into my heart and, personally, I think she enjoys it a bit too much. I married a sadistic woman… but everyone that knows her will think I am lying because she is the nicest person any of them have ever met (or close enough that it’s just a matter of semantics).
I’m not really sure what it is that stops me. Sometimes I get bored with the story because I completed it in my head, sometimes I don’t think I’m good enough, sometimes I let every distraction get in my way, and sometimes procrastination is way too comfortable.
Then there is this blog. A source of enjoyment because I can complete something. Creating in itself a sense of accomplishment that I am truly writing and finishing something, even though it is more akin to eating cake then a proper meal. It’s the sugar rush without the content. It is an interesting conundrum.
Excuse me while I go bang my head on the desk…
Ok… now that I am done self deprecating, I do have several stories I am working out. One in particular has hit an interesting snag with the plot and I have slowly been working it out. Another has an enemy issue. Then there is the one that is a trilogy that just seems daunting every time I even think about it.
I really should just start writing them. Just get it out of my head, blow through the excuses, and do it.
At least that way I wouldn’t have to hear my wife say “You should have written the story then.”
Again.
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