While I didn't really get much work done in terms of word count, I was really beginning to grow attached to the characters and the way the story was playing out and the amount of effort and thought I put into the beginning rough patch was a lot of work, but it all came to a sudden end when I accidently deleted it by saving a blank document over it, thinking I was opening it up to start working on it again. I hope the characters didn't die with it, and feel like I'll someday return to it, but I don't have the motivation to pick up everything and restart it just now. I feel like this is the universe telling me to hold off, write another book and restart after. So that is what I'll do. Though I am indeed angry with myself, I can't let it get me down so I went through all my works to see if anything else caught my attention. I read it, it was a short short story I wrote for my creative writing class. It inspired me to not let this hold me down too long, and I'll be back on my feet in no time. I went back and gave the story an even better ending that makes more sense being read by an actual audience, so I decided out of the kindness of my heart. (And possibly the irrational thought of an upset self) to unleash this uplifting story to the world. Free of charge. I hope you guys enjoy it. (if I even still have an audience, it's been so long since I've blogged) Go easy on me. It's a quick story I wrote in 1 and a half drafts. I would never show something on it's first draft. So yes, I'll dub this Draft 1.5 to push it to the public sooner. :D Anyways. Here it is:
The
Procrastinating Writer
“Alright guys, papers due next week. Have a good
weekend.” My voice gave off the hint of
depression, or perhaps I was just tired, what I knew for sure though was that I
was ready for the weekend.
In college all I ever wanted was to be a writer. I knew
I’d like teaching as well, but I always hoped my teaching career would be more
of a hobby, than what’s providing for my family. Since then, I find less and
less time alone to write. The struggles of being a father, a teacher, a
husband, always get in the way. My wife, Ashley, supports my love for writing,
but over the years we sort of stopped talking about it. I used to tell her all
my exciting ideas, and how my stories would develop, but never put on paper.
When I get home, it’s the same as every day. Dinner,
grade papers, tend to children, house chores, then finally when all the
obligations are away and done for the night, I’ll sit down and finally have
some relaxation time and work on one of my several models that I’m currently
working on. Building models has always been a hobby and stress reliever of mine
since I was a kid and now it’s somewhat of an addiction. I love the ability to
manipulate and construct pieces together to create something, a car, an
airplane, a spaceship.
One night, while lying in bed I turned to my wife and asked
her if she was asleep. She shook her head and rolled over. “What is it Adrien?”
She asked softly and smiled. I smiled back, my feelings felt awkward, though, I
knew I could ask her anything. “Do you think I’m meant to be a writer?”
“What kind of question is that?” She asked in a voice
that broke my heart.
“Sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m meant to is all.”
“Adrien..” She sat up and looked me in the eyes. “…over
the past few years, after…what happened... Truth is; I miss talking about your stories. I miss hearing about them and
reading them. I didn’t lose interest at all…but also, when do you ever write
anymore? What was your last story?”
“It’s hard with work and the kids and going back to
school! When do I ever have the time?”
“Adrien, you spend hours a day working on your models.
Put them aside and WRITE!”
***
That summer I took what she said to heart, put away the
models, turned on my computer and stared at a blank screen. Ashley came up
behind me and kissed my neck, realizing I’ve stared for an hour already. She
whispered: “Work on your novel you wrote.” the same novel that was rejected
multiple times before. Without thinking I opened the old dusty file and began
revising, and after I was done I wrote this little introduction to be placed in
the beginning of the book that you now hold in your hands.
***
A teenaged boy named Jonathan sits at his computer with
his word processor open and the book in his hand, he smiles, inspired. Then
eagerly flips to the next page. Starting with Chapter 1.