creative writing | Human Textuality

The Trinity of Epic Fantasy

I know I should be using my skills as a writer to spread knowledge. I am drawn to information about health, equality, progress, kindness, science and happiness, and am passionate about sharing it with anyone willing to listen.

There’s no excuse for isolating myself from the real problems of the world, and getting lost in the musings and ego of my own creation. How selfish. How impractical. Aren’t there plenty of great storytellers out there already? I should be saving the world – not pretending I live in a fictitious one.

But I’ll tell you a secret. I want to be shut in a room and told to write something fantastic and entertaining; no coming out until I do. Meals will be delivered by a vegetarian chef who has taken a vow of silence. Music is allowed, but no Netflix. Internet use will be restricted to quick searches for writing purposes only. Writers get time in the yard for cardio exercise and a yoga mat will be available from 5 to 6pm.

A younger me wrote creatively all the time. Now and then, she produced something decent (I had to muster the courage to look). A younger me did not associate writing with money or time management. I had endless hours to “get in the headspace” and stop judging every stupid idea. A younger me did not have Facebook or a tweeting schedule. A younger me did not have a two year-old.

I have friends who write creatively on a regular basis, and I both envy and admire them. Not that I would trade my life and its daily responsibilities. Not at all. But when I made the decision to get a degree in creative writing is was to let myself feel and imagine. How could I know how hard that would become? Anyone who can do that, and continue to love it, is a rockstar.

There is an epic story in me somewhere. I’ve been thinking about it for years. Details and themes have changed over time, but much of the core remains, and I think it could be good. While I might not waltz my way into the trinity referenced above, the whim and fancy that have driven me since childhood might just find a way.

Here’s hoping that simmering through gradual onset adulthood is a trick for making creativity worthwhile.

never ending wood board road

In the past, I’ve had work assignments that were big, and seemed like they’d never be over.

The one I completed last night took the cake.

While it was technically due by 5pm yesterday, most writers working on the numerous parts (myself included) were finding the articles to take significantly longer than expected. Our overlord (a very nice guy, incidentally), allowed us until today to finish, and you could hear the collective sighs of relief from our various remote locations across the country.

Perhaps it was all the Dutch names. Maybe it was our general unfamiliarity with the Dutch landscape. Or it could have been the monotony of the keywords. I like to think it was all of these, tossed in with some characteristic writer procrastination.

Whatever the case, I felt as though I’d be writing these pages for the rest of my life. Even as I chipped away at the individual pieces, the pile never seemed to diminish.

Sadly, there are times when being a writer is the primary thing that destroys my inclination to write. Specifically, professional freelance writing sometimes leaves little energy for the screen time and thought process of personal creative writing.

By the end of the typing marathon, all I wanted to do was eat carbs and watch Dracula.

Still, it’s worlds better than limited lunch time. There are always those green patches on the other side, but I’ll continue to graze over here for a while.

Tag Archives: creative writing

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