For me, the hardest part of writing has always been actually starting to write. So hard in fact that I’ve never actually written a novel. Of course, I write; this blog is a testament to the fact that I am not shy about writing things down. Yet, writing anything resembling a novel or short story eluded me previously. It wasn’t the conceptualization; I have ideas aplenty. I would research and sketch out and plan extensively, but when it came time to put pen to paper (or finger to keys) I hit a roadblock.
I think the biggest difference for me -beyond a matter of scale and length- is that my blog is just for me. It’s my soapbox on a street corner, by rocking chair with the grandchildren. I can say what I want, how I want. Whether or not people accept is important to a degree, but it is not my primary concern. My main concern is just to write, to express, to explain. Creating a piece of fiction however is different.
Almost by its very nature, it is something to be consumed, to be enjoyed and shared. That means it is also meant to be evaluated and measured. To be honest, that has always terrified me and -till now- blocked me. Even though history tells me that the worlds I have created in my past were generally enjoyed by the participants in it (in this case, role-playing games), there’s still the hesitancy to share my words -and worlds- with others.
That time has passed though. I’ve decided that my chief priority must be me. These are my stories, my worlds and they deserve to be told, even if they are only ever experienced by a single person. Even if that person is only myself. The simple fact is that I love great stories, I love the way they make me feel. I want to interpret those stories, tell my own versions, evoke those same feelings. I’m doing this for me. I’m opening my mind finally and pouring it out onto the screen. I’m free of the fear. Fear can come later, during editing or during my attempts to publish. For now, there is only story and character and breathing life into my own creation.