For some reason, I used to write fiction. I don't know why, but somehow I managed to churn out random story after random story. They weren't excellent pieces of writing, but for some very odd reason I decided it was a good idea to write them.
It was terribly exciting, crazily tossing words onto the page, living in the weird universe of this story that was constantly taking over my brain.
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<---- me when writing a weird story
But THEN, out of the blue, random stories stopped coming to me. Dun dun dun...
I would stare at my computer screen, like, "WRITE!!" and then nothing would happen. Then I was like, "Noooo! Ideas, where are youuu? -sad face-"
Of course, there were many times before where I would write an opening paragraph and then be like, "No, this paragraph is not the way to go," and then delete it, and then write a new paragraph, and delete that, and then repeat that process infinitely.
But this time, it wasn't like I was just low on ideas and constantly contradicting myself.
It was just like... NOTHING!!! I could sit for hours without typing a word. And I exclaimed, "Nooooo! Writing, come to meeee! D: D: D:"
It was like:
Sometimes I think about the characters and their setting and what they ate for breakfast and the color of the walls in their house and their pet dachshunds trotting along and what they had for breakfast this morning for literally months before I get anything down into my document.
My mind during that stage normally looks like this:
CHARACHTER PERSON:
- Red hair (like, tomatoes. Seriously red.)
- Has a bunch of annoying siblings
- Does not like middle school
- Lives in an apartment
- Has a friend who moved from England
- Her mom is an actor!
- Moves to Canada?
- She meets a person named Olympia, who is constantly wearing ballet shoes
- Likes apple juice!
- Is very proper.
But for the past few months, all I could come up with for my character was something like this:
Lives in New Zealand (?) Somewhere other than America, maybe? Russia! Greece! Canada! China!Has black hair No, no... Has really light brown hair? Does it even matter?Flying? Having a dream about flying (?)
Except all the ideas that are crossed out were not completely eliminated--just drifting about my brain, uncertain as to where they belong.
Somewhere during that phase of not knowing what to do with my character, I was wondering, "Should this character have 4 siblings?" and then I was like, "I only have one sibling. I don't know how it is to have 4 siblings, so I can't write about that. How dignified of me to try to write from experience."
And then I was like, "Maybe she should live in the countryside!" but then I realized, "I don't live in the countryside. There's no way I could write about someone living in the countryside accurately without people from the countryside being like, 'No, that's not how it is!'"
Eventually, I realized, "How am I going to write fiction if I can't write about anything other than stuff in my own life?? This is not going to work. Am I just going to have to write about myself? Because that's the only thing that comes easily to me now."
I actually really hate writing about my own life, for some reason. In the past, whenever something interesting happened in my own life, I exclaimed, "Let's write a story about someone who does that!!" instead of jotting it down in my journal from my own perspective, because I seem to prefer writing about the weirdo people I come up with to writing about myself. Maybe that's people invented fiction--they just didn't want to write about themselves.
But I couldn't write fiction anymore, so I made this dimwitted blog, (is it proper grammar to call inanimate objects dimwitted?) to write about my dull own life, because that is all I currently have the ability to do.
I just searched something along the lines of 'how to get rid of writer's block' and all the websites were like, "Just keep writing random stuff, even if it is just "the cat sat on the mat" again and again. Be free of your inner critic! Yayyyyy!"
And I thought, Huh. Maybe I should try that?
So I wrote the most utterly random stuff that came to my head:
(Warning: it makes no sense. I made no effort to write beautifully.)
I stared down at the fluffy water, in which a trout was snootily gliding about. Taking a seat on the banks, I dipped my chocolate toes into the walnutty fresh stream. Guppies nibbled the algae. Woot.
Iwoqfgeouardnlzfoienhgpso
Have you ever wanted a bust of a reindeer head for only 73 cents??? Well, now you can get one at www.bustofareindeerheadforonly73cents.com/.
"Here," said Oota, shoving the chocolate bar into my hand. "Take it. I don't like chocolate anymore."
"You... you don't like...? Oota, you love chocolate! You're the one whose username is ChocoLover6346!"
"I'm not talking to you anymore!" yapped Oota. Bursting into tears, Oota sprinted away into the sunset. I started at the chocolate bar, still sitting in my hand.
Deedledeedledeedledeeeeeeee.... PAINTBRUSH!!! #ihatehashtags
The derpy music floated into my ear like a cloud passing through my brain. The miniscule eighth notes seemed to explode as they took giant bites out of my sock drawer ever so gihrughughfdly.
Even after that wonderful exercise, I still feel very uninspired.
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