So as I continue on down here, I found myself taking time out more often to actually write some stories. I’ve always liked writing–or at least since I was 8 or so. I even remember why I started writing, I read the first Tracer Bullet storyline from Calvin and Hobbes and basically wrote a little derivative thing on my parents typewriter (hey it was the 80s!) with the fancy correct ribbon. Needless to say I wore it out in my flurry of two-fingered typing and so word-processing has largely been the order of the day since.
But even then I was afflicted with never finishing my stories. It was always such a chore because even though I could visualize the story clearly in my mind, I never had the patience to actually work through it. That changed a few years ago where, collaborating with someone else, we finished the first draft of a novel. It started as kind of a lark, but ended up being the origin story of a character that I’ve slowly been creating a world around since at least 2002. Of course that initial draft is going to bear only a slight resemblance to the finished product, but since then, I’ve written a few other things–nothing too original, some fan-fictions, some After Action Reports (using video-game still images and text to tell a story) but I’ve actually be completing things, and even getting praise for them.
It’s the praise that really gets to me. I love, can’t stop reading it. Addicted to it. I won’t even mind criticism because if I can make my writing better it leads to more praise. I finally understand when people who perform like actors of musicians say they do it for the applause. It’s almost more euphoria than I can bear and I need more of it. I suppose there are worse things to be addicted to and I hope I can use it to spur me on to more writing but it’s tough to balance that with my academic obligations sometimes.
So now, maybe with my new found spirit of finishing work I’ll be able to keep the blog up.
