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Don’t you dare stop believing
I am currently writing my first novel-length story which isn’t fan fiction, and actually it’s my first original story I am actually writing and not just deciding on ideas that could probably turn into stories when I have the time to actually put them together. It’s a great experience, and I love every piece of process, because I write. Because I eventually like what I have written this is something that didn’t happen for a couple of years. Me, not being a brilliant writer, but a rather decent one, I think I really have a chance to do it. It’s not going to be the best and most intelligent and elaborate and far-fetching novel ever, of course it’s not although it deals with a rather interesting subject, and there definitely are interesting characters and I like the story.
And even if I only finish that one just for me, just to prove that I am capable of writing a novel, well, that is enough. There is only one thing I’ve ever wanted to do, the first thing I remember about something I really needed to do; writing. Even as I hadn’t even learned how to spell I wanted to write. I was four, or five, or maybe even three years old. I think that means something, in German, my language, the most beautiful language of all even if it’s a complicated, overly-disciplined and oh so precise (concise) one, there is a word for it I really love: bezeichnend. You could translate it as predetermined, but it’s not exactly the right choice of words it’s more like a mixture of characteristic and predestined, but in a neutral tone.
And the reason why I am telling you this now? Why I am telling me this now? I just tried to read the annotated version of my favourite fan fiction (Freedom is just another word for…) ever and I realized that I didn’t want to read it. That I didn’t need to read it because I made up my ideas in my head a long, long time ago, I know the ways to understand that story, I understood it as well as I can the first time I listened to it. And I want to understand it my way.
And don’t want to be told what the author (here, the great and amazing synecdochic) wanted to imply, wanted to convey and intended to make clear; that’s as if you’re unwrapping something that is prettier of you look at it from various directions and still notice different things every time you look. Feels as if you’re told a secret that spoils it for you, takes away the magic, the understanding and the picture you have built in your head. I don’t like that.
Moreover I don’t want that, and then I realized that this is something writing, reading and literature is about for me, it’s about a picture, a beautiful framework and a story that everyone can and should interpret for himself, that everyone is supposed to understand differently, like a mirror and everyone sees a different colour, a different texture, a different shade of grey. That a story, a novel, a poem, a song, a movie, a touch makes us discover and unravel ourselves, to get to know things. To broaden our horizons, to understand, and embrace.
I want that. I once wrote a post about who I am. I started the post with. “I am me. And I want to understand.”
Maybe this is how it works for me.
I am currently writing my first novel-length story which isn’t fan fiction, and actually it’s my first original story I am actually writing and not just deciding on ideas that could probably turn into stories when I have the time to actually put them together. It’s a great experience, and I love every piece of process, because I write. Because I eventually like what I have written this is something that didn’t happen for a couple of years. Me, not being a brilliant writer, but a rather decent one, I think I really have a chance to do it. It’s not going to be the best and most intelligent and elaborate and far-fetching novel ever, of course it’s not although it deals with a rather interesting subject, and there definitely are interesting characters and I like the story.
And even if I only finish that one just for me, just to prove that I am capable of writing a novel, well, that is enough. There is only one thing I’ve ever wanted to do, the first thing I remember about something I really needed to do; writing. Even as I hadn’t even learned how to spell I wanted to write. I was four, or five, or maybe even three years old. I think that means something, in German, my language, the most beautiful language of all even if it’s a complicated, overly-disciplined and oh so precise (concise) one, there is a word for it I really love: bezeichnend. You could translate it as predetermined, but it’s not exactly the right choice of words it’s more like a mixture of characteristic and predestined, but in a neutral tone.
And the reason why I am telling you this now? Why I am telling me this now? I just tried to read the annotated version of my favourite fan fiction (Freedom is just another word for…) ever and I realized that I didn’t want to read it. That I didn’t need to read it because I made up my ideas in my head a long, long time ago, I know the ways to understand that story, I understood it as well as I can the first time I listened to it. And I want to understand it my way.
And don’t want to be told what the author (here, the great and amazing synecdochic) wanted to imply, wanted to convey and intended to make clear; that’s as if you’re unwrapping something that is prettier of you look at it from various directions and still notice different things every time you look. Feels as if you’re told a secret that spoils it for you, takes away the magic, the understanding and the picture you have built in your head. I don’t like that.
Moreover I don’t want that, and then I realized that this is something writing, reading and literature is about for me, it’s about a picture, a beautiful framework and a story that everyone can and should interpret for himself, that everyone is supposed to understand differently, like a mirror and everyone sees a different colour, a different texture, a different shade of grey. That a story, a novel, a poem, a song, a movie, a touch makes us discover and unravel ourselves, to get to know things. To broaden our horizons, to understand, and embrace.
I want that. I once wrote a post about who I am. I started the post with. “I am me. And I want to understand.”
Maybe this is how it works for me.
