Like most writers, I constantly have potential story ideas popping up in my head. I have pages filled with the description of the people or setting, or even kind of race. I usually end up writing one or two (or more if I’m just oozing with ceativity) scenarios, a couple pages long each. Sometimes it’s a war/battle scene, or the moment conflict strikes and things begin to get hazy between the characters. A majority of the time, the scenarios I write are of love interests; the moment they first kiss, have an intimate moment, realize that they have incredibly strong feelings for each other. Sometimes they’re death scenarios and others a falling out.
They are scribbled across pages; neatly when I sit down and allow myself to think it out from all angles, messy when I can’t keep up with my own mind, and sometimes they are just a couple of lines or even just a few words.
I go back to those pages when I want to try and see the story through, create a main character other than just nameless people but that’s when I hit writers block. Like my mind can’t reach back and connect to the part of me that thought of this brilliant idea. I can’t go back and put myself into these worlds of kings and war paint and love and New York. I want to talk about them outloud to someone, hoping that they can maybe say a word that will trigger something but always fear that it will jinx the story or that my idea will be stolen (hence why I have a Wattpad but never post stories of my own).
I end up feeling frustrated, hopeless, but still grasping onto the fingertips of these words.
On top of being a writer, an English lover, a curious being, in a way I am a collector of these things unwritten.
It’s messy and frustrating. But one day, I’ll put one or two of these tellings together and something incredibly magnificent will be born.
I have high hopes for that day.