There are things that I really dislike, one of them is thinking too hard about an idea.
Ideas for stories, novels, even RP posts don’t come from me dwelling on them, in fact the more i dwell on something the more it seems to get in the way of how it should be. Some of my best pieces of writing have in fact seemed nothing above mediocre scribbles. That is until someone else gets their hands on them. One thing that will always be burned into my mind, and is completely the reason as to why i even write, is my year 12 English teacher, Mr. Beaumont (sorry Mr. B you’ll always be Mr. B to me). I wrote a piece, that was actually an excerpt from my novel, for one of the assignments and was sure that it was in fact pretty okay but nothing great. What I hadn’t counted on was Mr. B’s reaction to it.
I manage to pump out 1000 words or so in a few hours or so and looking over it briefly i felt that it was ready for him to look at it and give me pointers on what i could do to change it and fix bits and pieces. I thought I’d end up with terrible bits of red pen all over it but what happened instead was something completely different. Something that blew my mind.
Let me paint the picture for you because it won’t have the same effect if i don’t.
It was an afternoon class, i’m pretty sure it was anyway, and i came and claimed my chair with my usual posse and waited for the class to start. In strode in Mr. B and i was nervously awaiting to see if he had gone through my draft while i was idling talking to my then best friend. He called my name and beckoned me over with a finger, at this stage i was freaking out. I honestly thought that he hated it and i was going to have to shelf my three characters i loved so dearly. Instead he said nothing and wrapped his hands around my wrists.
I was so freaking confused. I was like ‘What the hell was he looking for?’ And I waited until he finally spoke up, I can still remember the words so clearly. He said with a serious look on his face (this was a rare occasion) ‘I was checking to see if you had any experience because it felt so real to me.’
Blinking, I think pretty sure my knees nearly went weak and I actually breathed a sigh.
You see, my story was about a girl (Lucy) who was having trouble adjusting to a life without her twin brother and her older sister. She turned to self harm and started cutting. This time she went too far and nearly lost her life. In my novel this is the pivotal moment where she realises that she needs to pick herself the fuck up and get her life in order.
Mr B. (along with Mr. Hafer) is the sole reason I decided to try and tackle Creative Writing and Flinders. I didn’t get into the course but life has a funny way of showing you just what you need at that moment and not what you need in the future. He showed me that even the smallest of ideas can touch someone in a way that is unsuspecting.
So some people sit there and actually plot out their stories, their ideas. I’m not one of those. With a novel i need to, but a short story, i start with the smallest of ideas and go from there. Once i get the main Idea I work from it, but getting that one Idea is hard. I guess it’s time to take a shower and ponder on nothing or take my washing to my auntie’s house and hang it out and think. Or switch through my music to find that one song that gives me That Idea. Maybe this weekend i’ll come up with something.
Keep your fingers crossed for me.