The Act of Writing

I love to write. I constantly forget how much I love to write. But when I get an idea, which isn't very often, I can sit down and the words will just flow out of me. I prefer the physical act of writing with pen and paper. But it has to be pen because then everything I write is deliberate. I can't go back and erase everything and start over, I have to keep going where ever the words take me. That's why I find writing on the computer to be difficult. I'm always thinking I could have said that differently or better or bolder or lighter etc. It's too easy to go back and delete something I'm not so sure about. That's my problem, not being sure of myself. When I don't go back over something I've written I worry that something will be wrong or out of place. But when I do that for a paper at school, that paper that I didn't reread has always gotten me a good grade. I guess what I'm trying to say is trust yourself to convey your message properly the first time. Before we had the backspace key or erasers or white-out we were much more careful about what we put on paper. I think it should go back to being that way. I vow to only use the backspace key in the case of bad grammar or spelling errors from now on.

That being said, I got this book/journal type thing at Barnes and Noble the other day called 642 Things to Write About.

It's awesome. The prompts go from morbid to flowery and everything in between. I would like to share one of the prompts with you and what I wrote for it. Don't judge me though, it's kind of sappy. (I'm a sucker for YA Fiction, which mostly includes coming-of-age stories and first loves, so that's kind of what I wrote.) Anyways, I'm super nervous about putting this out there, please be nice. (My sister read it and said I should write books, so...). Oh, and this was written originally in pen, just so you know :)

Here is the prompt: "Start a story with the line "When I confronted him, he denied that he'd ever said it."

Here is what I wrote:

When I confronted him, he denied that he'd ever said it.

"Oh come on," I retorted, "it was just last friday! How could you possibly forget, let alone deny, that it ever happened?"

He seemed very tight-lipped. Maybe he regrets what he said.

I hope not.

When he said that to me, right to my face, I may have froze, but that doesn't mean I didn't like what he said.

"I shouldn't have said anything," he paused,"I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"But what if it works? What if, by some miracle, we are actually perfect for each other?" My counter argument brought some light to his face. There was hope there.

I don't know what I expected him to say. But, what happened next was better than anything he could have said. We were close enough that I could smell peppermint with the slightest hint of cinnamon on his breath.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, almost to soft to be heard, but loud enough to be felt through my entire being, straight down to my toes, making my heart pound so furiously I hoped he couldn't hear it.

He put his forehead to mine and we stood so close I could feel his heart beating just as excitedly as mine.

When our lips finally met, I knew this wouldn't be the last time.





Now that I go back and read through it again, it kind of sounds like the excerpt that you would read on the back cover of a book. The hook to make you curious enough to dive in. I just hope some day I can expand the excerpt enough to fill the whole book and not just the back flap. That sounded uber cheesy, geez, maybe I shouldn't be a writer… TTFN