Writing in the Past...Part I

So I asked some friends about some potential blog post topics, and my wise friend and fellow writing sufferer Audrey wrote, "I want you to write a post on your stories... I want to read about your past writing...."

Now, a few months ago, I did write this post:
How is Nano Going?

I will probably include some quotes from it in this story because it's story just sort of tangles in with all the others.

Me? I've been writing stories since I knew how to move a pen across paper. Back in the day, there were no computers or word processors or ipads. No siree. It was good old fashioned long hand or a clacky electric typewriter. No problem, I LOVED old fashioned long hand. I still return to it on occasion. Hence, my buying notebook obsession. (Yes, when Walmart has the yearly 10 cent college ruled notebook sales every fall, I am like a kid in a candy shop. It doesn't matter if I still have fifty unused notebooks at home. I hoard them like they might be deemed illegal next year).

Other kids are excited when their parents bring them home a toy or candy from the store. Me? I was ecstatic every time my mom brought me home another notebook. And don't get me started if I got to buy a notebook and pen before a major car/plane trip. Oh, the thrill! What worlds would my imagination open? What new emotions would it all spark? What universes would unfold? I don't remember much of those early stories. I do remember having to illustrate the upper part of it with bad stick figures (drawing has never been one of my talents). I know many of the stories were about friend conflicts and jealousies and drama (duh, I was in third grade). But there were also fantastical tales about magical cats (I wanted to be a cat for the longest time) and their kittens and a mystical land called Evony where soap bubbles floated everywhere.

In fourth grade I placed in the school district's Young Author's Contest with my multi-chaptered novel called "Sylvia Meets Jealousy on Links Street." Yes, these combined my above themes of cats and pre-adolescent angst. And surprise, surprise. The characters were personified cats and some of them were loosely based on friends I had at the time.

In fifth grade, I went through a bit of a writerly goth stage. I was into horror and adult angst and exploring the effects of things like fires and burns. Okay, at the time I wanted to be a firefighter when I grew up, little knowing that I wasn't going to grow very big or strong. I wrote violent, gory stories and shared them with my friends and then destroyed them afterwards. I can't even blame Stephen King for the influence. I didn't discover him and his horrifying pet cemetery of a mind until 8th grade. He was the one that later taught me to go where you don't think anyone wants you to go with your writing. And then go deeper and darker. It wasn't really a lesson I have heeded until later. And by deep and dark? I don't necessarily mean dark. I really mean deep. Dark only if necessary. That's a power to be wielded pretty sparingly.

I recently discovered a cheesy fantastical novel I wrote in eighth grade called "Beyond the Mirror." I laughed myself silly rereading it to myself. It was flowery and full of purple prose, about some friends who go through a mirror into a magic land (how original, right?). Ah, well, I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it immensely at the time. I filled a whole notebook with it. Oh gosh, there were sparkly unicorns and fairies and mermaids and everything that is awesome. But mostly there was a centaur named, get this, "Janein" (haha, "Yes-no" in German since I was taking German that semester). I think he came to a bad end in that story, as I have never been shy about killing off my darlings.

In high school, I started a big novel. I seem to have blocked the title out of my head, but oh boy, it filled my WORLD for about three or four years. Actually, beyond, because I remember when I was in college and learning to use word processors for the first time (shut-up, I was terrified of computers because they were new-fangled and I thought they would all go away) that I was typing it into a file. The main character was a girl, aged 12ish and she and her friends find? are given? a book that is magical. Stuff happens. Creepy stuff. The dead author is apparently after them. Also there is an older girl who had reportedly been driven mad by the book and was in a coma somewhere. (Her name was Rachel and apparently I had bored my sister with this story enough times that she named some toads she found and kept as pets Rachel, Rachel II, Rachel III etc. Win! Why is my niece not named Rachel? Huh?) There was a slightly older boy who had been friends with Rachel that the main character was in love with, but he had a girlfriend named Sherry (I had a cat named Sherry later - d'oh!). There was drama and creepiness and intrigue. Apparently there was a gateway to another world inside the book. Who knows, I'm sure it was all horribly executed. There was a lot of build up to a big, disappointing climax that involved a really bad storm.

Thank goodness that all relics of that story were destroyed so that one day when I'm terribly famous people won't sell it on ebay.

Okay, so it's getting late and I need to do other stuff so this was part I. I shall continue with part 2 tomorrow or more likely Thursday. :)))