Right now I’m in the middle of writing a zombie story, the beginning of which takes place in UWI (lol!). It’s the first time I’ve ever based a story on somewhere that I’ve actually been, and that I see everyday. To tell you the truth, it’s been a pretty fun experience. I mean, writing usually is really fun. You get to stretch your imagination to limits which you would have never before imagined were possible. It’s a relaxing way to escape reality and recreate the world as you see fit. But there’s another side to writing. A – well, I wouldn’t say darker side – but a side the is more serious and more real than just your regular English class creative writing essay.
There is a point for all real writers where your story becomes more that just ink on a page. There’s a point where the story itself becomes a living thing, writhing and trashing, refusing to be tamed. It starts off slow at first. You get this idea in your head, and you think, ‘Hey, this is pretty good. I should write this down.’ And as you begin to scribble down your idea, a next one pops into your head, picking up where the last one left off. And next idea joins that one and then another and then another, like bread crumbs from that old fairytale. But when you turn around to see exactly where you are, too late you realize that you’re already lost.
The ideas in your head suddenly explode simultaneously, trapping you in this world you think you’ve created. But then you realize that’s not true. You didn’t create the story. The story already exists. And it would like nothing more than to leave the cramped quarters of you mind and vanish forever. You may think that you have name for the story, but you realize that it doesn’t fit. You try to name the characters and you realize that you can’t. You can’t name them because they already have names, lives, emotions and personalities. You are plunged into a maelstrom, churned by this creature that you call a ‘story’.
You get a hold of yourself just in time to realize that if you don’t do something soon, you are going to lose this story forever. So you grab hold of it for dear life, refusing to let go. You will write this story. And as you grab hold tighter, you get plunged deeper into the world of the story. You being to understand the intricacies of it, exactly what makes it tick. You begin to bond with it. And then it grows calm. It is as if the story has observed you deemed you worthy, allowing itself to be tamed by you. Only then would the story open up and show you all of its secrets.
I’ve written many stories in the past, some I’ve left behind, some that I hope to begin writing again in the future. But I’ll never forget them. Their voices will never die. Their worlds will never cease to exist.
So what if I’m a little crazy? Life’s more fun this way! :p