Oy! Creative writing type… stuff!

The other day, (August 26, 2011, if you’re one of those type who are into precision, and all that.) I sat down with my journal, my favorite pen, and wrote three little notes to myself.

  • I’m setting my timer for 15 minutes, and then writing.
  • I shall not edit myself
  • Go!

 The drums were beating loudly-much louder than I’d ever heard them before. The sound throbbed in my ears, resonated in my head, and then dribbled down into a scared little lump somewhere in my chest.

 As I ran the raindrops beat against the ground, splashing back up with their own force, before settling down to turn the forest floor into a muddy soup of bugs, twigs, deadleaves, and a few scared runners- like me.

 My skirt was soaked- no, worse than soaked- drenched, swallowed up in some giant’s mouth, and then spat out spitefully, leaving me wet, cold, and scared.

 One foot in front of another at first, but now I couldn’t even feel them- my own feet, numb, bleeding I was sure (oh, how the trackers would love that!), tangling up in my wet, wet skirts, tripping me, but never, never ceasing.

 I could imagine their hands on the drums. Smacking up and down with a cool precision, glowing slightly blue in the strange light of their torches. Only the highest, the greatest wore any sort of adornment- the others- those who beat the drums would be dressed in plain dark clothing that contrasted strangely with their pale skin.

 Not that I could talk- lowest of the low, but with my best skirt on. I had thought it looked pretty, made me- what was that word again? beautiful. And now I was stumbling through the forest like a crazy animal, tripping as I put my foot through the hem of the expensive-too expensive, really- fabric.

 Tripping again and again but always picking myself back up until at last I couldn’t hear the pounding of the drums for my gasping breaths, and allowed my self, finally, to trip, fall ,and lay there.

 I dug my hands deep into the squelching mud that surrounded me until-

And that’s when my alarm rang.

So? What do you think? I said I was trying to write more- it’s kind of a leap of faith for me to post this in a public space, since generally when I write something I come back to it a couple of years (or months.) later and think, Good Gravy, what was I thinking? (and then I run to my mother, and thank her for never letting me set up a fan-fiction.net account.)

Anywhoodles, poll time.

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4 thoughts on “Oy! Creative writing type… stuff!

  1. I think that what you’ve done here is risk vulnerability. Artists in any genre have to force themselves to go to that scary place. The place where you don’t overthink the process, or consider the mechanics (especially not the mechanics!), and just write (or draw, or play, or emote) and to heck what anyone thinks of it. It’s the purest form of the art. Unedited, and from the gut/heart/marrow.
    You still have to keep working on the process. Practice working with whatever advice knowledgeable people give you. Boring schoolwork, tedious grammar and vocabulary study.
    And then try again with the vulnerability. Throw it all down; leave it all on the stage. Let the critics howl.
    At some point, in a magical moment, the skill has become second nature, and the vulnerability isn’t as terrifying (because creating is worth so much more than pleasing anyone) and the art is fused with the science and the sacrifice, and something profound is born.
    You’ve got a gift, dear girl. Hone it. And thanks for letting us catch glimpses of what you can be.

  2. I am not bias.
    OK I am , but that doesn’t mean that my comments don’t count.
    You my girl, are freaking amazing! You should write write write and keep writing because you are incredibly talented.
    You are an artist, a beautiful budding artist.
    I can’t wait for you to get some wind under those wings so I can see you soar!

  3. I like it! It’s just the kind of writing that would make me curl up with a story in order to find out what was going on. I think you shouldn’t sell yourself short, and look for opportunities to submit stories for contests and stuff. Who knows where your talent may take you?

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