Why do I …
Part 2 of 4 - a bit more about me. I know these posts are a bit rambly, but it’s easier for me to get them done.
Why do I - write?
This is an excellent question. I’m not a writer by trade. Not like so many others here - which is honestly impressive. I haven’t had the chance to read all the interesting posts yet, but I am trying!
Anyway, I usually write for two main reasons.
One is because I have so many ideas running through my head. They run past like a video or movie I am watching, and sometimes I’m not even fast enough to get a pen and paper to write it down. Some ideas are just fleeting thoughts, there one second and gone the other. Some ideas keep reappearing with more and more details. Those are usually the ones I start working on. Of those, I have had three or four by now, two of which have been constant in the last few years. Those two will be one of the things I’ll post on my substack.
Two, I use writing to work through my emotions. Happiness, sadness, and sometimes even anger - they all can be overwhelming to me. Then I take my notebook or the laptop and start writing. Those texts are rarely anything I would ever post because they’re just thoughts. Giving my emotions, especially the less-than-happy ones, to a character helps me distance myself. I can look at them and figure out what made me feel and how I feel. Granted, it doesn’t always help, but it worked often enough.
When did I start to write?
As soon as I could comfortably hold a pen, I knew all the letters of the alphabet and had at least some idea about grammar. Back then, I didn’t care about spelling so much. I just wanted to tell the story. My first story, written and illustrated by eight-year-old me, was about a group of zoo animals going to a circus show.
Did it make sense? Probably not, but it was a story I wanted to tell, so I told it. After that, I just kept going. Stories about trees and birds, cats on adventures, and tiny dragons that figure out the world.
Growing up, I always had time to get some words out. These days it feels like time runs through my fingers like fine sand. But I want to make time for it again.
What do I write?
I mostly write fantasy, urban fantasy and supernatural, though I want to try my hand at other genres, too. There may be something else that I enjoy writing. I won’t know until I try it, though.
Romance also creeps up on me if I’m not too careful. It’s not wrong, but I usually don’t plan for it. Those stories are often light-hearted and more of a meet-cute than anything else. Just something sweet to offset the bitterness of the world.
I’ve been trying to get some order into the notes of two ideas I’ve had for the past few years.
One is a fantasy story - a young woman stumbles through a veil and ends up in a different world. It’s told not from her perspective but from the woman charged with bringing her in. Something is going on that might be a danger to everyone.
The other story is supernatural - a witch wants to live peacefully above her little shop. She dislikes interfering with others’ problems, but a vampiress seems hell-bent to disturb her peace either by bleeding out on her doorstep or kidnapping her to help her unseal a door.
Those are the two main ideas these days. But there is also Madame Meow, a charming, four-legged detective who tries to discover what is happening in her town. (I'm unsure if that is worth writing, but I like the idea.)
That should be enough rambling for today. Last week I left you with pictures of my finished projects. This week I’ll add you a small snippet of the fantasy idea. It’s short, but most of this is still handwritten.
Until next week!
Assume pulled the hood of her cloak deeper into her face and leaned forward to shield her eyes from the icy wind. The sun hung low in the sky and painted the white field a golden red before them. They only had a few hours of daylight left. It would be enough to cross the wide plain but not enough to find shelter in the forest behind it. The night would roll over them before they could get a fire going.
“It would be suicide heading out now.” She looked over at Bratam. The dwarf was almost invisible beneath his white cloak. Only his axe and the dark brown of his beard betrayed him.
“I don’t like it but we’re going to have to stay here for the night and head out as soon as the sun rises,” Assume turned around, ready to head back to where the rest of their small group was waiting. “We’ll just have to hope that whoever is following us will have to wait until tomorrow as well.”
“If they find us tonight, we will fight,” Bratam huffed but turned around to follow her. “Running away like children. We should face them head on and show them that we can’t be defeated. Teach them a lesson they won’t forget!”
“And start a war between all nations?” Assume asked dryly. “As much as I would like to fight myself, our orders are clear. Get the girl to Andarel and make sure she arrives there in one piece. Once she’s in the hands of the Weavers we’re free to return home and resume our duty.”
“You mean prancing around in polished armor and sitting through endless meetings where the highest of the high grease each other's shoes only to stab them in the back a moment later.”
“Such are the times of peaceful co-existence, my dearest friend” Assume turned to stare at her longtime friend, one hand pressed against her chest. “I was convinced that peace is something dwarves seek just as much as humans or elves? Why, I had no idea!”
Bratam stopped two steps ahead of her and turned around slowly. His face, weathered from age and war, was almost completely hidden by his hood. Assume bit her lip. She didn’t need to see his expression to know that he wasn’t amused. Her resolve broke moments later and she laughed until the cold air prickled in her chest.
“I’m sorry, my friend but you’re not the one sitting through those meetings and sometimes it is very entertaining to watch them outdo each other with compliments.” She wiped a few tears from her eyes and grinned at Bratam.
“I don’t know why I like you, human,” Bratam shook his head and continued walking.