My mind is one of those highly imaginative ones that pops up with a brand new story idea at least once a week. Normally, I cave in and come up with a part of the story so that when I find the document in the future, I’ll think, “Hey! I remember this! I’ll carry it on and finish it because it’s amazing and I can get it published and be famous and I can act in the movie and I’ll be best friends with John Green and Jo Rowling!” But then I never do. Welcome to the life of a procrastinator.
Last week, I was sorting through my documents and getting rid of anything I didn’t need to earn myself some more working space. That was when I found a folder full of no less than twenty story beginnings that I’ll never finish.
I suppose one day I could take all of the ideas and somehow merge them together so that they don’t go to waste – or I can give them to somebody so they can finish them and give me credit for the idea if they get published... but for now, I’ll be keeping them in my sad lonely file of lost hopes and dreams.
The reason for this blog post is because I just came up with a really, really good idea and went through that too-familiar thought process of, “I’m actually going to finish this one! I’m going to be MASSIVE if this gets out!”
But I never do. The most I’ve ever got into a story is 47,000 words. I’ve been working on it for almost four months, and I’m a long way away from finishing. Even when I finish, I can’t do anything with it because it gives out a really bad message and no publisher in their right mind would want it. I just want to finish it to say that I’ve finished a book.
The shortest is 90 words... And that was the one I had the highest hopes for. That’s the trouble with wanting to be a writer – It sucks. It’s a good kind, though. You just have to get through the walls and barriers and write until you’re finished.
I think that one day I’ll make my mark. I have tonnes of ideas if I ever run out, right?
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