I´d love to be a writer, but I am most likely never going to be one.
See, my head is constantly full of stories. Literally everything around me inspires me – the music that I hear, shows and movies I watch, books I read…sometimes I go out for a walk or shopping, and it looks like a seemingly uneventful day; then sometimes later I get a funky idea and it triggers a chain reaction within me, and POUF! Inspiration. And in retrospect it was something tiny that happened on that previously mentioned uneventful day, that somehow slipped into my subconscious, stayed and grew there, and transformed into something beautiful without me even noticing.
I think in voices; I can hear my characters talking. I think in music; I imagine background tunes for the scenes I come up with. I think in scents, in colours, in feelings. Sometimes, a picture gets stuck within my mind, and it keeps on gently bugging and pestering me, until I finally sit down and draw it. It´s a great feeling, and I love to watch it come to life, for me and for others to enjoy as well. That´s just how my brain is wired.
The thing is – I would love to do the same with writing. Not necessarily with an original novel (though that would be more than awesome), but also with fan fiction. I love to read; I love to get immersed in a story that has me glued to the page, when I cannot wait for the next part to be published/posted. A lot of my friends are tremendously good authors, and I find the way how they play with words so impressing and wonderful. It´s like magic to me. It inspires me to do something similar, and I get excited and sit down and write. I develop ideas and characters and a storyline (all very rough and not very well planned out – I do a bit of planning, but I cannot for the love of me meticulously plan out a literature project up to the last letter. Not even an academic one.).
And then I write. I write like, a page, a few pages, or a chapter, all depending on the project. I write, not caring about typos or grammatical mistakes; I write first, then I go back in and correct those. Then I reread everything; I read aloud sentences that sound weird, I may substitute a word with a synonym, or I might change the word order of a sentence…stuff like that.
And then I read it again, and I don´t even dislike what I wrote. I absolutely hate it.
And then I delete it.
The few things I posted here are small paragraphs under my pictures to set them within a certain narrative, and a few poems and short stories I wrote for my Creative Writing class. Out of these there´s only one story I like, and I have been told by my teacher (who is a published author) it was the weakest out of the batch, mind you. The rest – I don´t particularly care about them. The fan fictions I´ve started? I think the longest one went up to chapter 2, and then I stopped, because I hated my own writing that much. I still love the story I was going to write – it´s all in my head – but I so hate the way I butcher it with my writing style that it makes me cringe.
I don´t always manage to convey the feelings that I want to show with a picture. People tell me that I do, but it´s never really the case – it´s often very close to what I had imagined, but … I don´t know. It´s like the drawing is a couple dancing. The spectators enjoy watching the dance and think that it´s perfect, and while the dance is indeed good, only the dancers know there is something off with the way they put their feet, but they can´t quite put their finger on it.
Now execution-wise my writing is not catastrophic per se, but to stick with the dancing analogy – I´m constantly tripping. I am fluent in five languages and can speak all of them nearly accent free (except for Spanish maybe, as I´m so out of practice, and I do have an accent when I speak English. But French or German? I sound like a native speaker.) I do have the vocabulary, and if I lack a word I know how to use the tools to look it up. I know my grammar, and besides all the linguistic technobabble I just mentioned: I know how to tell a story, I´ve always known. I do it while I draw. I post a pic of a family celebrating Christmas? You can be damn sure I´ve mapped out how they went gift shopping, what they were talking while choosing their wardrobe for the occasion, what songs they are singing under the tree and why…everything. I go and write it down? It sounds horrible to me.
I don´t know why, but it seems to me that I can neither dance, nor paint, with words. And I wish I could, because I enjoy writing, and I would be the happiest if my written stuff would make people as happy as my drawings…but no, it doesn´t work out.
Unless someone tells me they desperately want to read longer things written by me, I most likely will be posting poems, or a one-pager once in a while, if I feel like it. But I think it´s finally time to let go of that dream to write.
Or is there a way to learn how to paint and dance with words?
Just in case you were wondering, here you can find my