Long time ago I wrote a story about 4 girls living in a small town, loving life and everything about it. One fine day a tragedy strikes and life changes, the protagonist of the story (one of the girls) moves away. Time goes by and she grows up to be a successful young woman, its then she decides to revisit the town. I don’t remember much about the story, because I lost it somewhere but I do know it ends where it began.
Why I’m talking about a story I wrote and lost in dust of time? Because I wonder why I don’t write much anymore. I used to write lots of short stories and forget about them, because I never thought I was good enough but i wrote them anyway. I still don’t think I’m good enough, but now I just don’t write. Maybe because I take unsaid voices too much. I wonder how one would react to it if he or she reads it, which I never used to do before and thus I wrote and wrote. Dominique is hanging half way, because A- it has a touch of reality and B- I wonder how would one react if he or she reads it. I mean why should I care if someone doesn’t like what I have cooked up in Dominique, after all it’s my work and if I like it I shouldn’t worry about others. Wasn’t I planning not to share it with anyone? Yes but I still wish if I could share my work and get to hear what people think of my characters and plot. I’m a highly messed up person because I have a story but I don’t wish to share it.
There is another plot on my mind and I almost wrote 2 or 3 pages but left it because it requires little research. The whole dedicated writer persona in me has been beaten to a state of coma, so I don’t feel the need to take out time to search. Maybe I should just use fictitious names for places and continue work on the plot.
The work I do everyday is so monotonous that it kills the creative soul of mine, leaving me feel like I can’t write. I always wanted to be a writer like a lot of people, but now I wonder if it’s even possible. I hear people going for self publishing thing and I know maybe I can do that, but for that I need time, motivation, inspiration and self confidence. How do I get that? Don’t know.
If only I wasn’t too busy being a Super Hero, if only I wasn’t too busy trying to not go beyond repair, if only I could type and type all day without worrying about things that are not in my hands (o yes they are I just pretend to say they are not).
Someday I will write something and complete it and say “this one is my master piece”, something I said a long time ago.
Voices: Hey writer chick
Me: Sarcasm not allowed
Voices: Really? Aww
Me: What do you want?
Voices: Do you remember diary?
Me: Guilty face and silence
Voices: Do you remember bed time reading?
Me: Guilty face and silence
Voices: I’m sure you remember 8 hours of sleep? And do you know what lack of sleep does?
Voices: Oh wait how could you? You are a writer not a medical professional.