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So I obviously fancy myself a writer a little bit as I’ve started a blog. But when I describe or sheepishly refer to myself as a writer or talk about my aspirations of writing, this is talking about fiction. Writing about myself or my hair and my weight is pretty easy. Easy in comparison to letting people read my stories. As much as I’m allowing people into my world when I describe the issues with my hair or my body, it is completely different allowing you to read a story of mine. It’s like letting someone peer into my soul.
The story may not be about me, inspired by me or my life events but as any one who writes knows, they put their heart, soul and mind into their stories. That is so terrifying to share. What if people don’t like it, does that mean they don’t like me? I’ll never stop but the fear stops me from sharing.
The first time I truly thought that this was something special to me was when I was 10 or 11 years old at school. I have had a passion for books for as long as I can remember. I used to make weekly trips to the library with my friends, we would even sometimes go a few times a week and I loved it. Getting lost inside a story, escaping to another time or world. It was exciting and still is. We were given the task at school to do some creative writing, just write a story. The teacher gave us a brand new exercise book each, I think they were yellow. There were no rules, no restrictions, just write. Most of the other kids wrote their stories which were a few pages long and then moved on to whatever other task was available to do. Me, well I filled that exercise book, filled it with a story about an alien girl from a far away planet. I don’t remember the ins and outs of that first story but I have used that same character in many forms over the years.
It’s possible that because I never finished that first story, I just wrote and wrote, that it’s created a block somewhere deep in my mind about not ever finishing a story. I can write and write and write but I can’t find the end. Or maybe it’s because if I end a story, then why wouldn’t I share it? Also, when I have actually outlined a story to the end, it always feels a bit underwhelming. I can ramp up the tension to about halfway but how do I bring together all of my ideas and characters to a successful conclusion? I don’t know. I’ve shown people stories before that are half-finished and I always lose motivation after someone has seen a part of it. It’s so much easier to say I haven’t finished it when they ask to read the rest, rather than me actually finishing it, them reading it and then being completely disappointed. I want them to love the end as much as they love the start.
I do love writing though, even if I’m not sure what my lane is. I like sci-fi, fantasy, romance, futuristic worlds, drama, aliens, magic, all of those mixed together and completely separate too. Sometimes I feel like that’s my problem, like I can’t focus on any one idea for long. So I write all my different and varied ideas down and then I don’t know which one to develop. I get frustrated and I step away. I’ve been doing this for years and all it accomplishes are a very large number of unfinished projects.
A couple of years ago I had an overflowing need to write. So I did. I was writing outlines, scenes, pages of prose but for about 15 different stories. My mind so easily gets distracted by one thing or another. I could sit down and say that I’m going to only focus on story 1 today, but a character will say something or do something and I’ll think, it’s not right for this story but I could develop that idea into another story, then I start story 2. Story 1 falls to the wayside but story 2 is now getting all of my attention. Then the same thing happens and story 3 appears and so on and so forth. That is definitely what happened then but at least I got the ideas written down and I have a place to start with each one.
Now, my mind is full of self-improvement ideas, how to grow healthy hair, how to be healthier. I’m distracted by Woeful To FroFull but in a good way because at least I’m writing. It could also be an excuse I use to not write. At least with that blog, I am publishing it for the world to see (if anyone is reading out there, thank you) and I hope that starts to give me the confidence to share my passion, that it gives me the confidence to start something AND finish it.
My writing goals are fairly small, just to become an international best seller and all of my stories to be made into films and loved the world over. Maybe I should finish something first. Then find the courage to let someone read it and see how we go from there. What a scary thought but I can’t wait for the day until I can. I think I could be good and it’s great that I think that but it’d be nice if other people thought I was too.
So let’s keep growing (and writing) together!
xx woeful writes xx
Adapted from a blog post originally published on woefultofrofull.com on 16.11.16.
Woeful Writes 