Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I can't seem to let it go. Writing I mean.

So what makes me so drawn to writing---as a career, as a past-time, as release---anyway? Was I born to do it? (Though if that was the case, shouldn't it be, like, way easier?) Does it appeal to some aspect of my nature? (I do like being shut up in my room, away from everybody and the world, quite alot.) Maybe it's storytelling that's in my blood, or maybe just record keeping.
I did enjoy making up scary stories to tell my siblings and cousins when I was pretty young, in keeping w/ my very early love of all things horror/dark fantasy related. The first books I encountered as a burgeoning reader? Goosebumps, baby, as well as the Time-Life Books Enchanted World series. (Anyone remember these gorgeously illustrated texts? Ye gods, imagine what effect those pictures had on the four-year-old mind. They were delicious.)
These were stories. Had something akin to morals in 'em. I ate them up. Made up my own. I can't remember ever trying to write any of my own down, just telling them in clubhouses and on Sundays down by the creek by my Grandparents' place, when my cousins and I would tromp out to explore after the family feast. I relished the moment, the climax of whatever D-movie-grade monsterfest I'd come up with, when my beloved cousins visibly squirmed and told me I was one sick customer.
So yeah, the storytelling part has always been there it seems. This is a proud tradition, and I'm proud to be drawn to it.
The exact moment I knew I wanted to write though, that came a lot later. It was simple. My family went to some cheap pizza place, and it happened to have a gorgeous west view. You could look down on the town, the factories (urban/industrial settings always put me in a creative mood. Another story,) and above it all, the sun was setting. It was, well, toxic-looking. But beautiful. Like the sun was burning out, and we were all just sitting at the bar. I felt like I had to write it down. In such a way as to make even someone who'd never seen a town or sunset feel exactly as what I was feeling just looking at it.
It took a while, to get it just right. It took the form of poetry, flash-fiction, longer fiction. I even dreamed about stories in which I could incorporate this scene. I finally wrote a good one down, though I'll be damned if I can find it anywhere now. But it was such a special experience, the act of creation. The failure and experimentation. Finally getting it right. Beautiful.

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