I’m attempting fiction again.
As some of you have know, I used to write fiction and fiction only. Or at least some very over dramatized version of non-fiction. Drastically over dramatized, so much so that it really isn’t considered anything anywhere near comparable to truth any longer.
And then a speeding car smashed into my car and then shortly after directly into my head, bruising my brain, destroying my memory and creativity and I have barely written since.
I still haven’t been able to fully figure out what caused me to stop writing, but it’s definitely a lot harder to get back into it the longer I go without it. However, it’s on my bucket list to get my short stories published, and after the success of a close friend of mine recently, I know I can do it. I know if I continue trying I will be able to get something on paper. It might not be great, hell it might not even be good, but it’s worth a shot.
I guess I just feel like I can’t put the details together anymore for fiction. But, practice makes perfect, or in the sense of writing practice makes progression, if nothing else. So I’ve made it my goal for winter to go back into that flash drive full of fiction and finish something.
Wish me luck. I’m working on my most recent piece actually. Figured I’d stick with something fresh. It’s a daddy daughter story I started shortly after I moved to Denver, before my life out here really started to take off.
It’s strange to me, sometimes I read over what I’ve written and I think “WOW! This is actually pretty well done!” and then other times I read through it and think “wow, this is crap. I write like an eight grader”.
Last year I did NaNoWriMo and made it eleven days. I wrote about 12 pages. NaNoWriMo is not for me. I still have what I wrote, and again, sometimes I look over it and am surprised how great it is, but so much has changed since then, I think I’d have to change huge points of the story in order to keep going. Not impossible, but for now I’ll attempt one project at a time.
Thanks for listening.