Come here, Story!

          A week or so ago Mercedes Lackey wrote a NaNoWriMo pep talk. She suggested writing fan fiction. Not to publish, but to learn the craft and to enjoy the process of story-creation. What a great idea. In fact, I have done that. I didn’t realize that was what I’d done, but that is exactly what it was. When I watch series tv, I often connect with certain characters. Usually the dark, broody types. LOL So many times I have had ideas for episodes. Sometimes I even write them. The same thing happens with books. Often a minor character jumps out of the story and intrigues me so much I’ll have to write at least a few short scenes of his story. That’s fan fiction.

          I’ve been thinking about Mercedes Lackey’s comments and my stories ever since. This week I’ve reread some of the almost-forgotten files of emotional vignettes and half-realized stories. In the process, I can’t help but compare how I felt creating them with how I feel now. Or how I’ve felt for the past year or more. There was a time stories grew in my brain faster than I could catch them. There was always this feeling that I could never possibly get them all written. Every time I sat down at the computer a portion of a story gushed out. And several others had to be ignored.

          When did that all change? Why did it change? I don’t like the change!

          In considering those stories I wrote in the past, I realized they grew out of my passion. The passion I had for the character and the passion I had for my writing. My desire for that character to finally find love and happiness pulled the story out of me. Because I knew I’d never publish those stories, I was free to write whatever grew from my imagination. I played with the words and character and the plot and rarely second-guessed what I wrote. I had fun!

          I read through a couple of those stories this past week. Actually, I think they could be more accurately called story-ettes. They are very rough writing. Nothing I’d want to show off. But they are full of energy and passion and life.

          I want that passion back!

          I’m not positive that focusing on getting published killed the passion. I doubt that the desire to perfect my craft was the only culprit that doused my imagination. And attempting to build routines and habits to facilitate writing certainly isn’t a bad thing for writer creativity. Somehow, though, the combination of those and other things in my life has stopped the flow of ideas and diverted my desire to write.

          I want that desire back!

          I started writing in order to preserve my stories. I enjoyed going back to them, tinkering with them, making them better and better. Yes, I enjoyed sharing them with others, too. That’s what made me think I wanted to get them published. Maybe I still do. I’m not sure. All I know is that the thrill of story-telling has been eroded into something dull and lifeless.

          I want the thrill back!

          And I think the way to get it back is to stop this relentless push toward publication. At least for now. I may, in the future, decide to share my stories with others. After all, I really do want to entertain and influence people with my words. The truth is, though, I don’t really care if strangers read and like what I write. I want those I know and love to enjoy it. I want my stories to to entertain them. I want the characters to inspire and influence them, to give them insights they might not have if they hadn’t read my stories. But I honestly don’t care about those people I don’t know. Yes, it would be a thrill to meet or get a note from a stranger telling how much my book meant to them. But that is not the reason I write. I write because I want to tell stories. Or at least that is why I used to write.

          And that is what I will do from this point forward.

          I will write because I enjoy it. No other reason. I will not write when there are other things I want to do, even if it is watching television (gasp!). I will not refuse to spend time chatting or playing a game or going to lunch with a friend because “I have to write.” (If I want to write, that’s a different matter.) I will no longer berate myself because I haven’t been consistent in writing or editing or querying. I am no longer “a serious writer.” Writing is my playtime. My revel in the word-toys time. I write for the fun of it.

          Join me?