So here I was, a bit teary-eyed after I went out of the theater and saw a long queue waiting for their turn to watch the Guardians of the Galaxy, where [SPOILER] some important person died and the story was all over the place and felt disconnected at parts but hey, if you’ve got 5 (or more) colorful characters to narrate, you definitely have to spend some time crafting the right pacing. And when I got back home, I realized that I might be doing the same thing, that I’ve got the same big, disconnected story because there’s this heroine and there’s this hero and there’s this other hero and they’re all shuffled into this mishmash of a tale that I’m trying to write and I’m slowly losing hope to get it right, especially that I’ve seen my previous drafts and man, they were cool.
But good things require a sacrifice, alright? A cut in the leg, a cut in the arm, a cut in the eye and here you go, a story with all the separate pieces of Nebula joined together. It’s fun and heartbreaking at the same time. And you thought writing was lame? Nah uh.
I just want to tell you guys that I am writing the stupidest, silliest story in town. Wait till you see how absurd it is.
Aaand the thing is, I may not see it in print. But, oh God, I want to see it in print. I don’t care if it’s not the Big 5. I just want to see its pages flutter before my eyes and laugh at that stupidity written in words that others will see. And maybe, just maybe, they’d laugh at me too, because they relish that kind of modest, dreamy stupidity and there’s something shining in it that I didn’t see the first time.
This week has been so hard, not because I got my first rejection letter (which I have been expecting, given that I wasn’t ready in submitting my MS for those awesome DVPit editors), but because of doubt. And yes, doubt is a part of a writer’s journey. There’s no surprise to that. But when the wall starts to get bigger and you lose your words and your confidence in your story, no matter how silly it was, then that’s the problem.
I lost my words. I lost my story. And maybe, I lost a part of myself, because that little stupid tale has been with me every year for ten years.
Ten whole rocking years. And there’s no reason why I shouldn’t pursue it. So I got my notebook out. Started sketching again. Started tracing back where I lost it and begun discovering what needs to be found. And know what? I think I got, all of it, right inside this head, all waiting to get roused and woken up from sleep. I think they’re all there. Now, it’s just the matter of getting them right down to my tongue and fingers, and into paper where you can read it.
Hopefully, I’ll find a mentor. An agent who’d push me and encourage me and believe in this little story just as I believe in it. And I’m only going to be able to do that once I finish this better draft.
This first week of May started with doubts, and I believe there’ll be much more. But I also know I’ll overcome it. There’s no way I won’t.
See you? x