Author’s Ramblings: Hello! Yes, I am also amazed. I am finally posting here again. LOL. I’ve actually managed two posts in one day, which is quite a feat at the moment. This is a fiction prompt following the “10 reasons why [you] should write right now”. I thought it was fun and ended up crafting this character that wanted out, so I’m writing from her POV, her name is Shayla and she’s an intern. I think. I haven’t made up my mind yet, because she’s still busy telling me why she has more than ten reasons to be writing. *sigh* Those pesky characters. Oh well. The prompt is below and the story, on a quick note, thanks to all who voted in the poll. I’m going to do my best to deliver. ^_^ It seems the grand results are for more fiction, a new serial and more personal posts. WOOT! That’s exciting–even to me. I have a great serial idea, (hopefully friday fiction may be a good debut) and I’m going to alternate it between two, possibly. We’ll see. I’ll let you know when I get that figured out as well. (and when I finish my homework…*sigh*) Happy reading–please enjoy and comment, I love hearing from everyone. Especially when I’m buried indoors, making faces at the snow and slogging through sloppy notes in pencil and ink. ^_^
Shayla’s Reasoning
I feel I need to write right now, or else I might lose sight of the hopefulness I found last night. That the written word does have power beyond the magical midnight hour and that it isn’t such a giant, big, bad thing to have a block. I can write through it. I can surely write through this one thing that dares to stand before me.
I feel that I need to write because if I don’t, I fear that I really will go mad. I might be insane all the way through something that doesn’t seem to be what it really is. I can’t even make sense of what it is I want to write. I feel as if my mind is scrambling already, clawing and clutching at something that isn’t there. I am restless. Listless.
I feel that if I don’t write at this very moment, I won’t be able to continue on with my day, that something may happen to skew the results and the ideas of everything that I have and that I believe in at the moment. Beliefs in reality, thoughts on practicality and many other things I cannot reason out.
I feel that if I don’t write at this precise second, I might give into the feelings of despair and failure that I can’t write at all, just because I found the bad grade on my last group presentation for this AP class. Even though I poured my heart and soul into it, I might stop doing this very thing, because it hit me at a moment where I wasn’t ready.
I feel that I might be stupid if I don’t keep on writing, because when someone kicks me down, I want to wallow in the dirt until it covers me from head to toe, so I can stand up and scream at them, as if I am some sort of monster that has something to say and that I will be tall and terrible and as horrifying as possible, so they won’t be able to ignore me a second time.
I feel empowered when I can take hold of a simple rod of lead encased within a tube of wood, with a lip-gloss pink chunk of eraser that paints a new pathway to nowhere and nothing. To be able to take an emptiness and fill it is a strange side effect to accompany this object, this tool, I call pencil.
I believe that if I don’t keep on writing, these feelings will turn into something I can’t handle. From something possibly useful, it may turn into a creature I cannot control, with emotions I cannot process and results I do not want. If I don’t keep writing, something bad could happen.
I am going to write because I want to, not necessarily because I have to, because I am not so selfish and vain to believe that I am the only creature on the face of this earth with an urge to create through the medium of words. I am not going assume that I am obligated to write, but I shall do so because I truly desire to.
I am writing because this is something special to me. Writing is a personable thing, to the writer itself. It is a strange playmate, a torturous master and an endearing friend. It can be everything and nothing in one moment, it can be what I love and what I hate.
I write because I have something to say that I want to be sure I understand. When I write out these black words on white paper, I see something. I understand. I learn a new thing I did not know before. I write, because I want to do more than sit in a corner, while the thoughts ricochet off the spiked walls of my mind, stained with doubt and burdened with pomposity, when I squeeze them through the final receptors, to become reality over fiction, I am doing it, because I want to.
Because in the very depths of my carved and whittled soul, God planted something I can’t even begin to understand. But if I were to sit and study it and take the time to understand it, I might see something, I might learn something, a new revelation may surface. I am writing, because He has put that inside of me and I want to use it. I want to do my best.
For these reasons alone, I write.
© Sara Harricharan