("Life is not 'whatnot', and it's none of your business." Bonus points if you know the movie.)
If you've been following my blog, you know I've been struggling pretty badly with my depression and anxiety lately, and that I am finally - I think - medicated appropriately. I feel better.
Wait. Let me say that again.
I FEEL better.
OK - I'm done.
Anyhoo, now that my brain is beginning to function normally (or, normally for me) again, I'm writing. Because that's what I do when I feel well. I have dreams, I see images (no, not psychic images - just a blip on the radar that winds up becoming the catalyst, or the jumping-off point, for a story), I hear snippets of conversation which spark my imagination. I never know where I'm going to get inspiration. I like this. I missed this. So I'm writing again.
I've written two stories in the last month. One, which you already know about (http://www.creepypasta.com/becoming/), was based on a pretty disturbing dream. The other (http://www.creepypasta.com/the-desert-road/), was the product of seeing a very clear image of a blonde girl, lit up by car headlights, walking down a dark road. The Desert Road stemmed from there.
Admittedly, I seem to be writing creepy stories. I'm not really sure why, except to say I've always been a big fan of the creepy, the macabre, or the supernatural...and "They" say: Stick to what you know. I know I'm not done yet because there's a third story already in the works which is based on another awful dream I had a couple of weeks ago. This one is currently titled: "Alterations at The Warehouse" and I'm hopeful to have that done in another week or so. This one is slow coming together because I only remember snippets of the dream itself, but I'll get there.
There is also a fourth story - which is actually the first one I started - in the works. That one isn't short and it's also quite complicated, with a lot of characters. I've had to update my outline quite a bit because the story seems to keep changing on me. As soon as I think I know what direction I'm going with it, something happens (yes, that's exactly what I mean) and I have to change it. It's weird how that works, but you writers (Allie, I'm talking to you) will know what I mean. I've gotten all my characters developed. I know them all, who they all are, how they fit into the larger story, but there's still a lot of work to do. So that might take another year or so to complete. Who knows, maybe it will be big enough to call a novel? I'm not getting my hopes up, though. Right now, I'm just enjoying the writing phase.
So - love the stories or hate them, that's OK. We are all entitled to our own opinions. But for me, this is so cathartic. I LOVE to write, and apparently - based on some stuff other folks have said - I do have some talent for it. That's not to toot my own horn, though; I always feel like my own writing is awful. But I've decided I don't really care. When I feel like a story is finished - because there is a point where it is finished - I tell myself to stop. Stop re-reading. Stop editing. Stop worrying and second guessing. Call it done.
I've called two stories Done now.
Let's see where this goes, shall we?
TTFN
JMS
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