Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Miracle of Miracles! I am writing.
Hello! For the first time in about three years, I think, I'm writing a story larger than a single page. It's fiction-not-so-much. It's based in a fictional land, but suffice to say I won't be able to use the disclaimer "Any similitude with persons alive or dead is mere coincidence." There is a dragon in the story and that dragon is NOT so me (cheek in tongue).
I had not written anything in years now (story wise) because I just lost the love for it. I think I could have stepped on my passion because it was damaged beyond repair. Nothing appealed me. The quail was broken and the ink got dry. Suddenly a friend came and offered an "innocent" (or maybe not so much) prompt. My dwarves say they think they saw a devilish grin on my friend's face when he suggested I could write during my vacation in the Caribbean. I don't know. The only thing I know is that his "innocent" prompt sparkled something in this dragon's head. The ninja muse stopped drooling over the Captain Ninja's poster, to pick up the gauntlet thrown. She thought the prompt was interesting enough, I guess. As I said, she had been interested in nothing but sitting on her tiny butt, bothering dwarves and eating popcorn.
I just wanted to humor my ninja muse and said friend. I didn't intent to actually sit down and write anything larger than a Word page. I'm shocked at how much I've written in such a short time (almost 11 pages). It's just pouring out of me to the point I wish I could forget about chores and school so I could just write until I get all "this" out of me. I do like what I am writing but it freaks me out. It has freaked me out since page one. It is not just a writing exercise. It's become a catharsis. I am finding things about myself I wasn't expecting. There is an 99.9% of chances this story never sees the light so I am not insecure about people not liking it. Dragons are not strippers and this thing is stripping my soul to my eyes.
But that's precisely where my insecurity comes from. Introspection, to have our inner being revealed to us is never a nice exercise, as useful as it may result. It's scary because I fear the possibility that revealing hidden sides of me would be like standing in front of Dorian Gray's picture. And that it might be as ugly as in Dorian Gray's case. Then again, if we are not brave enough to face such ugliness, we'll never know what is that we have to correct, repair, erase or accept. Therefore, it will never improve. It will stay ugly and distorted forever.
Even though I am convinced I should thank my friend for his "innocent" prompt, because I'm sure only positive things will come out of this exercise in the end (whenever that end comes); I am still blaming him for the freaking out time I take to finish this story!
This post is part of the Insecure Writers Support Group, created by Alex J. Cavanaugh. You can also find IWSG on Facebook - Critique Group.