What am I doing?

When I was a kid I loved writing.  Creating an elaborate world of my own creation that I could escape into and have the perfect life I always wanted was the most amazing experience.

When I was little the stories involved leprechauns and magic journeys, as I got older they involved getting my own horses and dogs, by middle school I was writing stories about girls named Trilbi with pink hair who won the heart of their best friend's cool older brother.  In 7th and 8th grade I became obsessed with adapting Sailor Moon.  

What did that mean?  Basically rewriting Sailor Moon with new (almost identical) characters, new (almost identical) backstories, and new (almost identical) super powers.  It was called Sergeant Andromeda, and I obsessively drew characters and even wrote a theme song for it on my flute.

In high school I became entranced with this idea for a romantic, wild-west screen play.  It was an odd-couple type story where a beautiful strong-willed tomboy won the heart and respect of a foppish New England socialite who had struck out to prove himself in the Wild West.  I thought it was brilliant.   (yes, I realize that you just covered your mouth to prevent your spit-take from soaking your computer screen, but keep in mind I was 15).

I can't describe the number of notebooks I filled with ideas and the number of drafts I wrote of just the opening scene.

But the thing all those stories had in common?  I never finished any of them.  Hell, as the stories got bigger and more elaborate I didn't even get past the exposition phase.

There was kind of a point where I unconsciously said to myself, "This isn't my thing, I can't even finish a story." And kind of put writing on the shelf.  I didn't even realize I did it.  I remember being in college and saying to Nate (an avid writer), "Oh, I used to write as a kid."

I kept journalling (and as we all know, blogging), daydreaming small stories about my life and my future, but not really investing in the idea of being a "writer".  It didn't feel like a thing I could do.  And I've got to tell you, I've got no idea how I got where I am today: sitting in a coffee shop slowly chipping away at what I hope will be a book.

I've also got to say it's so daunting.  Knowing I've never finished anything this big.  I'm not sure I can do it.  I don't have a lot of focus/longevity for things like this.  I really want to do it.  But if I see something else shiny, or find myself in a different situation with less time, it could easily be stopped.  I know me.

I'm literally giving myself external rewards here (Disneyland for a completed first draft... you know a story that has a beginning, middle, AND end).  It's very daunting.

It's also crazy to watch the story warp in my hands as I'm writing.  Like what started as potential picture book about a quirk one of my college friends had has grown into this epic fantasy that might deal with colonialism and family drama (don't ask).  Sometimes I feel like I need to grab onto it and say "come back to me!"

But trust me it doesn't listen.  The moment my brain goes "What if the Threshold Guardian we meet at the mountain is actually a little kid and is allegorically tied to the hero?"  I can't go back.  I find myself writing whole chapters about what were supposed to be one-off characters and abandoning characters that were supposed to be Mentors.  I can see how Luke Skywalker started out as Anakin Starkiller or whatever.

Also I've started drinking caffeine, it helps me focus, but if I'm not careful I drink too much and am bouncing off the walls.

Inspiration

A little sneak peek at what I'm writing. Some visual inspiration for my story.