YA Highway put up a post asking when (or why) people started writing. I find that a veeery interesting…. *gets distracted for five minutes by a USO, Unidentifiable Sparkly Object* … question. Anyway, When I started writing…. I’m not sure. For Why I started writing, I do know the answer, and it is oh-so-easy: I needed a way to express ideas.
Yes, I know I could have drawn, but you eventually forget the words behind the picture if they aren’t written down somewhere, or aren’t repeated every day for the rest of your life. At the time I didn’t have any sort of recording device, so that option was out as well. That left writing.
At first, I did it on paper, because I didn’t have a computer. Soon I was adding more paper to my binder until I had to empty it out and start again. The stories I did that were my own were short, or were never completed. Each idea was far away from the other. Sort of like ears, there’s something between them but you can’t actually see what.
The creative juice was full of words written in ink that had run, and were thus unidentifiable, with only a few bright flashes illuminating new words before they ran too. Some of those ideas went onto paper immediately, others occupied the waiting room at the back of my mind, waiting to be paired, or to be rediscovered.
I forget when we first got a computer, but I didn’t use it much. Until I used the CD-ROM we had (Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing 5) to improve my typing speed. After that, I started writing a story, a fanfiction for a videogame world. It was funny, whenever I’d get stuck with any story I was writing, I’d get an idea for a fanfiction. Some I used, some I didn’t use (like the Pride and Prejudice parody I thought up. It would have been just awful).
So now I was writing stories, but only one ever got finished. It was called The Adventures of Zoon, Zon, Zunk and Zank, and some parts were quite amusing (“Be careful” said their mother from her hospital bed). I did some very… childish drawings of Teddy bears and sharks in there. And once they went to the moon, everyone on Earth forgot about them… strangely enough.
That was the only story I ever actually finished writing back then. Others went unfinished. I’d like to say that they remain that way due to writer’s block. The actual answer is that I’ve lost most of them, or I was too lazy to re-read them and inspire myself to write more. Then I discovered short stories. I didn’t attempt to write my own, just made them up in my head, like when I was much younger. However, when I was much younger I acted them out with my siblings, vocally, or with things like Lego.
The first two short stories I actually completed, also being the first ones I’ve shared, are on Goodreads, and this blog: Salty Death, and Shoet, weaver of words. I have to say that I like Salty Death better.
Okay I’m not exactly sure why this became this lengthy, but whatever. Before I finish I might as well talk about my writing style.
When I first started writing, I would put things people said in the same sentence. Not as in, within the same pair of quotation marks, but as in “Hello.” “Yes.” I didn’t start a new line. A review I got on a fanfiction changed this. Thank goodness I wasn’t too stubborn to change. So my improvements with writing are largely thanks to reviewers of my fanfictions, and friends. Like Dragon.
That’s all I’ve really got to say in this extraordinarily long post that was made in answer to a rather short question.