Halfway

I have been writing like mad for fifteen days, and I have over 25k words to show for it. I’m not sure how good it is, mind, but a rough draft is no place for perfection. Ideas are forming, relationships are working out, and my villain is that right mix of oxygen and fuel that drives the story forward. What is interesting to me is that the stories I write are nothing like the stories I read.

Okay, let me say that another way. I can definitely see the influences of authors I have read, but there’s only one book that I can think of that has a similar enormous cast list. (I looked it up, the title is Lonely Werewolf Girl.) Sure, Robert Jordan also comes to mind, but I can contain my cast list to one book, so I don’t think I reach his vaunted “pad it out” status.

The human mind is not a stream that flows in one direction all the time. We tend to think it works that way, but we are compartmentalized. When there are multiple people in one room, we think differently than if we’re alone. I tried to use speech-to-text software for my stories, but when I talk, my stories come from a different space in my head than when I type. My husband is a very kinesthetic person. Getting him to sit down and concentrate to tell a story is difficult. He’s a masterful storyteller, however, when he sits down in front of a group of people.

I think that everyone has a story to tell, and I think the hardest part is finding the time to tell it. The human body has upkeep costs. Eat, sleep, work, clean, and socialize. I have found in the attempt of slowing down that it seems like life has just sped up to compensate. There is always a project, always a nagging something undone. Some people don’t find that their story is as interesting as hiking, or cooking, or the next video game.

I do notice, however, how many people find the time to write their stories down when they’re older. Those stories don’t go away. They just lie dormant.

I will not spend December turning down my friends for their holiday plans. I will be caught up in the swirl of things, and it will be glorious. I will also carve out time to write my stories, and get them out there into the world, where they could inspire others. Maybe just one other person, but then it will be worth it.

They will not lie dormant.

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