It’s hard sometimes, in trying to keep up to a blog, especially when you haven’t written anything of quality in a while and begin to think your followers might forget you. It’s even hard to write in a blog, and realise that what you should really be doing is writing something else. I don’t prioritize what I should write or when, but as of late, my attention has focused somewhat on this blog, and my other writing projects have gone astray.
Not that writing on here has made my project time less, because unless I’m pushed to write, say for work or at uni, I sit on something for ages until I lose interest. And I suppose keeping interest in something is something I’m not used to. I get disinterested in writing certain things so often, not because it’s boring, but because I have too many ideas, and I don’t filter out all the ridiculous ones and write something that has my complete attention.
I think I know I’m always going to write. But I also think I’m not always going to be “a writer.” I have too much interest in other areas, plus I have other places I want to go with the writing industry – editing and publishing is something that has always fascinated me. Despite my passion as a writer, I also know that it isn’t a realistic career – that much of what I do will depend on how motivated I am to get out of bed that morning. I’m also a little bit afraid that I’ll write something, and publishers will hate it, turn it into something it isn’t, or love it and make me stick to a “niche” that I don’t want. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not interested in writing best-sellers.
One thing I accidentally did at uni was when I started writing my final project in my last year, I didn’t realise that the stuff we handed in was what we had to work on for the entire term. So I handed something in that was just something I whipped up the night before. And I hated it. I hated the character, I hated the setting, I hated the story. So why did I write it? Because I couldn’t think of anything else?
Well, actually, no. I’ve come to figure out that when I’m under creative pressure, that’s when I create something I grow to love. This one A4 page of a script about a whiney teenager and her mother turned into a year-long project and a 60-page script. And in the end, I was pleased with it and I got a first grade on it too. Of course, looking back at all my writing projects, there are things in it I would have changed or expanded on. I wrote an experimental story for a module and though it’s one of the best stories I’ve written (and actually finished), there are lots and lots of holes in it. But it’s also a story I know I’ll come back to, because I want to lengthen it into a novel, and now I know what works and what doesn’t, it makes it slightly easier to write that novel.
The thing with writing is it can be anything you want. It can be less than a paragraph or an entire epic. It can be about lots of things, or it can be about one thing. It can make your reader think, laugh, cry or feel inspired. It can make or break you, if you write something in a rush, something you’re not entirely happy with, and try to get someone to read it. I can take constructive criticism, because it’s what made me the writer I am today. Sure, writing something I’m proud of, and then being told that it’s not that good, does hurt a little. But in my entire writing life, the only writing that someone has said wasn’t good, were people who didn’t get it, or where it was a story I just jotted out, without putting any thought process or pattern to it.
I don’t remember why I started writing. I don’t know why I suddenly seemed to wake up one morning when I was 8 and start writing down these ideas on paper. I know I was a very imaginative child; I used to have around three or four imaginary friends. And I was always good at reading, and I loved to read.
Unfortunately, and ironically, it was my education that squandered my writing skills. It wasn’t until university where I let my writing flourish, and I had realised that a writer was trying to get out of me all these years, yet because the only option available to me throughout my education was “comprehension” and “English,” I pigeon-holed myself into becoming an actress. Drama was the only creative outlet I had, besides my own projects, and though I knew I wasn’t the best at acting, I still pursued it because it made me feel like I could act out the books I wanted to write. College was really fun, but again I enjoyed my script-writing class more than acting. But I still forced myself to go to university and do Media Performance, where all we did was sing, act and dance and I realised it wasn’t for me. Even though I was okay at it, and even though I did alright, ultimately I was still being drawn to the page. When I came home from my classes, frustrated and bored, I’d write and write in my apartment until it was time to go to uni the next day.
So I left and did my degree, and I never looked back. And it feels so good to realise your dream. The first part of living your dream, is realising what it is and then you can go and pursue it. But maybe my dream isn’t to be a successful author. Maybe my dream is to just write something others will read and like.
So this is a sort of introduction into my new posts category (for those who don’t know, my main categories are Writing, Other/Derpyness and Currently Wasting Time (May update coming soon!)). I’m going to be attempting to write something fictional (like a short story, script or extract) every month and upload it on here for you guys. After all, there’s no point in writing about writing, and having nothing to back up my theories.
If you’d like to know more about this project, please read The History of My Writing. Thanks!