I feel that it may be my responsibility to document my journey. I ventured off the trail today. It had rained the night prior. By morning’s first light, it was still overcast and the sky was determined to stay that way. Swirls of cloud in the wind up above me but no sign of reprieve from the white fog that lay there, just a couple dozen yards upwards of the ground. I ventured off the path.
Has anyone ever gone crazy and believed that there was more to life than what they saw? I’m not sure many people have. No one’s quite got the right idea of reality but between those who believe in too much, those who believe in too little, and those who believe they have no clue, it’s probably those who believe in more than is true that are the minority.
I don’t know how my story-telling work flow works. I just… get ideas and write them all down. Sometimes, it takes a second to stabilize a particularly delicate part of the story but it mostly just comes out. But without further ado:
There once was a great fleet of many ships, each one lacking on its own but all of them connected to a great, central super-computer. This thing told them what to do, how and when to do it, and what was going on around them. Things were going well; missions were all completed with minimal casualties and optimal results.
But one day, someone had the bright idea to make each of these ships completely independent.
Heeeyyy, I wrote a story. A real one, the first time in 3 years, I think. I’m glad, grateful too. I’ll c/p it after the ‘read more’. Just to warn y’all, though. It’s a 8it graphic and o8scene is some parts, without spoiling too much. I also wrote it at 6am, after having woken up at 2am after going to sleep at 9pm or so. And I don’t really want to edit it. If you’re still interested, though, here it iiisss.
Reading through some handouts for English class at the moment. (Yes, I’m still in the process of finishing high school.) All this reading’s got me thinking that quality stories have something to say about life, the universe, and everything. Otherwise, where’s the tension? Why should we care what the characters do in a story unless their decisions somehow reach into our own lives?
I’ve always been really formulaic in the stories I attempt to write (of which none have actually been written yet). I always thought that this approach crippled my writing. I always thought I was too caught up on knowing how to write, too much of a perfectionist to just jump in and do what feels right. But thanks to my new-found motivation to study, I think I’ve found a happy middle-ground between formula and what just feels right. Or, uh, I may have found the formula for what feels right. Here it is:
In order to create a narrative that says something about life, the universe, and everything, I think I have to write about topics I have strong beliefs about. A story’s theme is an extension of an author’s voice: the beliefs that make that author unique.
Anyway, what is a person but what they believe? It’s the root of all their decision-making, most of what they think or do.
“First, diligent study of Nature and secondly, study of the work of the ages of Art.” – William Morris. So, moving forward, I think I need to study the nature of my own voice and the voice of the people around me in order to write good stories. It would also help to study how other authors… present their voices through their work.
At least with the first task, studying my voice, it would help for me to ramble and rant again about what I believe to be true in life. That probably means I’ll be writing on my blog more often again.
However, I’m also trying to figure out how to juggle several hobbies/activities at once, namely music, computer coding, finishing high school. So who knows if I’ll choose this over everything else? Who knows if I’ll have to choose at all?
At the moment, I’m still scared of falling down the rabbit hole. I know that the world underneath me, in which I’m always creating and always making connections between things that have never been connected before, is amazing and fun. But I’m afraid of staying down there for too long, and I think I feel this way because I’m scared that I won’t commit to the creation enough to save it when things get rough, when it doesn’t give me that good feeling I’m always looking for. It might stagnate and it more I establish it in my brain, the more painful I believe it will be if I ever abandon it. It might be in the back of my mind, always telling me that I should’ve committed myself to its completion.
But is this true? Would I be more productive if I didn’t place so much weight on finishing something? The world’s told me to do so a hundred times, but I think that, at this point, it’s just slowing me down. Maybe my problem right now is not to finish but to learn to keep going. And an obligation to take things to their end might be hampering me in that endeavor.
It’s hard to go against what people tell me to do. Acceptance is something I’m naturally inclined to live for. But who knows me better than myself? (If I’m paying attention.)
Life’s a paradox, isn’t it? I want to finish the race. This makes makes me ashamed of failure, and the fear of it keeps me from taking the next step. But how do I really feel when I’ve given up, when I’ve abandoned a story that I once loved, and, especially, when people stop telling me how to feel about having done so?
I feel great. I feel like I’ve learned from my mistakes. I feel that it was a stepping stone to greater things. I see the difference between myself when I was there and who I am now, and see that I was sort of blind to what really mattered. As such, I didn’t really bond to those characters and that world as much as I have to the ones I make now. Whoever I am is better than who I used to be, so my stories will be better and I will appreciate my characters now more than the ones I made before. I’ll never be lonely.
Or maybe I will be. Either way, if I find out, it means that I didn’t stop running. And it is satisfying to run.
Character arcs are tricky. For me, at least. I judge people by the moment. If they were great and aren’t now, then they aren’t great to me. I don’t keep a record of rights or wrongs. But I believe that arcs, that the change from one kind of person into another, are what make stories about them interesting.
I didn’t write my idea down like I told myself to. I remember who this character became, but not who she used to be. That’s madly disappointing. Maybe this is why I get sick of my stories before I write them down.