Why I write

Subject: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 8:49 pm

EDIT: For some reason, things pasted out of MSWord end up looking all funny when I post them here. Bloody half-assed experimental web2.0 forum

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In my experience, there are two responses you’re likely to
get when you ask somebody why they decided to pursue English. The first goes
something like this: “I’ve loved reading / writing as long as I can remember,
so it just seemed like the logical choice for me.” This is probably the most
common response. Hell, any academic is likely to tell you they’ve enjoyed
reading from an early age.

The second response comes mostly from people who decided to
pursue English while attending college. They’ll often say that they read some wonderful
poem, or some fantastic novel, and were inspired to pursue the art. A lot of
people who use this response are probably lying, but that’s beside the point.
The point I’m oh-so-clumsily driving at is that I fall into the latter
category, in a way, and I’d like to share my story with you. You’ll either
laugh or cry, I really can’t be sure.

I can’t say I recall the year, 2000 maybe? That would make
me somewhere around 13 years old. This was the year, I think, that I got
something I’d wanted ever since the first grade. I spent days calling up pawn
shops looking for it, and eventually I found it: a copy of “A Link to the Past”
for the SNES. I’d managed to find the system on my first day of looking, so I
rushed home and put the cartridge in, and began one of the greatest gaming
adventures of my life. Good times.

No, the brilliant dialogue in the video game didn’t inspire
me. That would have been silly. The Dialogue is terrible. But you see, when I
become obsessed with something, I become really truly obsessed with it. Back in
those days, before I had access to the internet, this meant a trip to the
library! I went to the library once a week anyway, but THIS week, I went with a
special intention: Zelda reading material.

As you might guess, there wasn’t much to be found…except
Prima’s “The Secrets of: The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past” by Zach
Meston. The first edition, with the purple and black cover, though I did later
read the second “sword and shield cover” edition, which featured additional information
covering “Link’s Awakening.”

It was good. It was witty, it was silly, and it was about
Zelda. I actually read the thing cover to cover, just for pleasure. And I did
it SEVERAL TIMES. I checked it out from the library frequently. I probably
wouldn’t find it very quite as enchanting anymore, but I was young, and damn
it—it was about Zelda!

This little known work by Zach Meston inspired me to write
my own Zelda walkthroughs, which in turn caused me to create my own Zelda
website. The website prompted more general content writing, which prompted me
to write fanfiction, which eventually led me to writing non-Zelda fiction, all
the way up to the present day.

I would love to have a copy of that book, and I fully intend
to buy it once I find one for sale on eBay which doesn’t have the crap beaten
out of it. Furthermore, I want to get it autographed by Meston. Because after
all these years, I still remember his name. I still think of him when I play
LttP. And while his writing may be relegated to copying down actions he takes
in a video game, I think he’s a pretty neat guy.
_________________
"Bears have penises. They can stick it in butts."
~LS

Subject: Re: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 9:06 pm

A very inspiring story. It's a good way to start, since everyone had to at one point.

Would it be too audacious to put our own reasons for why we write up here?

Subject: Re: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 9:13 pm

I'd like to hear them. It's good to here stories like Linkies, where people made something so simple into a massive form of inspiration. It makes me want to take out my keyboard again when I hear stories about how people got into writing.

Link, I'll keep an eye out for the Zelda book on Ebay. I'm always searching for Zoids on american Ebay, so I'll watch out for the book too. : )

Subject: Re: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 10:02 pm

Subject: Re: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 10:04 pm

Excellent, Link.
Though, right now, I'm tired from surfing through a few dozen thousand pirate images, and I just wanna rest...

Subject: Re: Why I write Sat Jun 02, 2007 10:46 pm

Okay. I'll do why I write/ Jack's long rant about herself. >_<

In making this is a little presumptuous. I haven't written anything in over three months of any calibre, save one spree a few weeks ago. This is primarily because of exams and stress crushing my soul.

My initial stories, the ones in my head, spring from a similar vault as Linkies. Except mine was TV. When I was eight or nine, I watched Zoids every morning, thus beginning an obsession which I may discuss another time. I tuned in the TV every morning, (we had crap reception) and watched an episode of Zoids. I laughed, I cried, I had a ball. Then it ended. But I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it sprawled into the massive story that continues even now. But when I watched Zoids again, about a year ago, I realised my story was absolutly nothing like Zoids. Not even the names remained after years of alterations. Not even the Zoids remained.

The actual writing part is a little bit different. About four years ago, a friend mention NaNoWriMo to me. National Novel writing month. You write a 50, 000 word novel in a month. I tried it, I failed dismally. But the point is the 30, 000 words I wrote. At this point, I was extremely, extremely depressed. It bothers me to say that. But I wrote the most extraordinaly emo-emo-angst fest of a story. It's crappy, it's melodramatic, it's whiny. But it was the most thearaputic thing I had ever done. I balled my eyes out writing most of it. The crap I was going through seemed realative to what I put my characters through. I loved it. I finished off the story about six months later at about 50, 000 words.

I tried Nanowrimo the next year, and passed at 60, 000 words. It was brilliant. I'd cheered up. The story was partially what Dominic Deegan and numerous fantasy books had spewed into my crazy Zoids world. I had necromancers and fire mages. It was great.

I was productive in a vauge way through the next year. I finished that story at 90, 000 words. The next November, when NaNoWrimo came, I fell flat on my face. I didn't write. I had to work. The start of that year had been like nothing else.

This year, I await November. I'll have exams. I'll be mentally screwed up because of it. But I'll write. I'll write because even if I never show anyone what I make to anybody, it's one of the most sustaining things I can do. I can write these stories which make me feel like... I don't even know. Like I'm worth something, or like I'm making something larger then myself that no one else can create because it's mine.

Which is why I write. It's my life support.

Edit: I am aware that I'm a little bit over the top, but hey. I'm a teenager. Poke me with a stick and I angst. : P

Okay. Who's up next?
_________________

Feed the weird mushroom a Star Fruit. It's almost cannabalism.

Subject: Re: Why I write Sun Jun 03, 2007 12:10 am

Angst is okay. If anybody makes fun of you for it, I'll kick them in the teeth.

I can do that.
_________________
"Bears have penises. They can stick it in butts."
~LS

Left the forum Age : 18 Joined : 28 May 2007 Posts : 639

I write because its an escape for me. I can write about people who have better life's or worse. The first time I really wrote something was because I was so horrible in school (grade wise) and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't do better. So since I couldn't just skip I wrote instead. It made me happy and I would get lost in my own little worlds. Now I mostly write out of boredom. or horniness >.>

haha shortest story >.>

Subject: Re: Why I write Sun Jun 03, 2007 12:38 am

Subject: Re: Why I write Sun Jun 03, 2007 12:49 am

Left the forum Age : 18 Joined : 28 May 2007 Posts : 639

I probably will <3

Honor and Virtue Joined : 31 Mar 2007 Posts : 4279

Why do I write? I want to apologize now, because it’s not a short explanation. Honestly, it’s more a question of why I try to write in different styles.

The first area – stories - is a bit clichéd. I started reading at an early age and befriended my books more easily than my peers. I loved Dr. Seuss and Winnie the Pooh and often escaped to the Hundred-Acre Wood.

School, interestingly enough, was my inspiration. This is also where I was a little odd. I liked making up stories. I dictated stories about a rabbit to my preschool teacher and then illustrated them. I’m not sure if I still have those construction paper atrocities, but there was a fair amount of them.

I was a very creative one throughout elementary, preferring games of make-believe to tetherball or kickball. Loner that I am now, it’s hard to believe looking back that I had nearly every third-grade girl involved in a game of Explorers, scouring caves and ancient cities on the blacktop.

Fourth grade was actually what pushed me to my writing. Our school had a mandatory school fair, where every student in grades 4-8 had to submit a project. I wrote a story about the Explorers game. It didn’t win me anything, not being a science project, but people told me they liked it. The next year, I entered a story about a Christmas party. Eighth grade was another story, this one about a time traveler.

But there were two books in particular that shaped my current favorite work in progress. The first was a period novel called The Witch of Blackbird Pond. For some incomprehensible reason, I was fascinated by the Salem trials and did a lot of reading on them. The second was Harry Potter. I started trying to write a fantasy of my own, a modern witch trial. Since then, I’ve replanned it about thirty times, and I finally like where it’s going.

As for plays, I have to credit school again. Sixth grade was my first non-story fair entry and the weirdest piece I’ve done to date. I wrote a debate between George Washington and George III, moderated by Ben Franklin. Unusual though it was, it got me an A and several parent compliments. However, the dialogue style was too new to me, and it was my last attempt at playwriting for some time.

Also in sixth grade was my first experience with actually being in a play. It was a summer camp, and one of the activities was to write a scene with a small group. My group’s was Elves on Strike, overthrowing Santa. I liked how visual a play could be and how much a simple action could show that a page couldn’t. I started writing a few scenes but never got anywhere with them until last year.

My English teacher gave us a writing assignment – the only rule: 5000 word minimum. I wrote a play about a community theatre play gone to hell. I hated it when I finished, but it had been fun imagining the characters moving about the set as I read the lines to myself. Thanks to that assignment, I started writing scenes again.
But the main inspiration for my plays was Once Upon a Mattress. It was the funniest thing I’d seen in a while. I’m a sucker for fairy tale humor, and I wondered why some of my favorites hadn’t been adapted for the stage. With as many fairy tales that are out there, I’ll have material for years to come.

I write because I love seeing creativity shared with others. It's entertainment and therapy, the perfect way to vent. It gives me an essence of control in this world and an escape to a land of my own invention. I write because it defines me.
_________________
This signature is a line of text meant to signal you that the post you are reading has ended. You may stop at any time, for everyone knows that attempts at a witty piece of writing usually fail. Nothing to see here.

Are you still reading this? No, seriously. You can stop now.

Fine. I'll write smaller. Stop now. Go away.

Please?

Did you honestly copy/enlarge this? Hahahahahaha

Subject: Re: Why I write Wed Jun 06, 2007 11:37 pm

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to read this. Dead week you know.

I have to give a woot for your story here, Mac. I'm very pleased that you decided to post at this forum, cuz otherwise I may not have known how awesome you were.

Furthermore, witch of blackbird pond ftw.
_________________
"Bears have penises. They can stick it in butts."
~LS

Subject: Re: Why I write Thu Jun 07, 2007 5:58 pm

Man, this is cool, seriously. I'm getting inspired from all your stories. Thank you. T_T

Anyway, I decided to post my story to add onto this inspiring thread. REALLY REALLY SORRY IF IT'S LONG.

I started reading before I could even talk (I was born with a speech delay problem). Before I knew it I was into making up stories and the game "pretend" and "make believe" in elementary school with friends.

I even wrote a few chapters in third grade about three companions--a talking bear, bird...and I think a moose...I should grab that out again. I even drew these characters out in my book. This is all in third grade.

Around fourth/fifth grade, I started writing a few journals. I kept a consistent one from fifth all the way to seventh grade.

In sixth grade we did a poetry project, and I was definitely all into it. Wrote poems of all kind--repetitions, metaphors, similes, haiku. I got an A on it. It's one of the things I'm proud about even today.

I then picked up where I started off in journaling and wrote one from eighth grade to tenth grade. I stopped for awhile on journals then.

In tenth grade I went into a creative writing class. During this time I was actually becoming a "social butterfly", so I didn't focus on the assignments that much at all. (I was never that social in elementary/middle school.) I ended up getting a C+ at the end of the semester...but I bet I would have learned a lot more, if I put more effort into the class. I wrote like one chapter of a story for one of the assignments in creative writing class--my mom and dad were pretty proud of it, but I wasn't on top of the purpose of the assignment, so I got a bad grade on it. I wrote some poetry too in my spare time and in that class, although they weren't that great now that I think about it.

I wrote a couple anime fanfiction material in high school too, but only finished one of them and it was really short, anyway.

Junior year to the present I have been writing in journals, but I never really sought to write any stories because there was so much competition, and I knew I'd need to really get in shape in order to get into the field. I remember in my early years of high school considering getting a major in english--but that was pretty much crushed knowing there are two career options in that field: freelance writer, or english teacher. I didn't like the idea of either one for a lifetime career.

Although just a couple months ago, I did get some inspiration to start out on a story, but due to not having a real secure plot made up I haven't started on it yet. I'm afraid "writing as I go along" would just put my story in ruins.

To sum this all up in my experiences in the reading/writing world, I like writing because it's a way I can express myself not only freely, but even more clearly than I can ever express myself socially. Words have a lot of meaning, to me. Ranting in my journal helps me to think things through (and also to get me tired and fall asleep late at night).

Well, that's pretty much it...wayyy too long for comfort, I know. Sorry.

Subject: Re: Why I write Thu Jun 07, 2007 9:29 pm

Interesting stories, y'all. Let's get into mine.

All through my life, from birth even, I was able to describe what's on my mind in words with ease.

Even back in the first grade, everyone was told to write a story. Everyone else had some cute little story about school busses, flowers, butterflies, etc etc, that were barely a page long, and written in either thick pencil or crayon.

I had a multi-page story about a Dragon and a gargoyle, written in surprisingly-nice pencil writing, and was about..... Seven pages, I think.

It told about how in the medieval [a word I spelt right then, but can't now for the life of me.. yay Firefox 2.0] days. Both the dragon and the gargoyle protected a castle of people. During the night, the dragon would sleep, since he needed the sun to stay awake, and the gargoyle would turn to stone. [yes, I had seen Gargoyles back then] During the night, however, they would fight, trying to beat the other so that the castle they protected could take the other one.
For many years they fought, until one day, a wizard cast a spell that ended the fighting.
He forced the gargoyle to remain in stone for a thousand years [the Gargoyles allusions are just reeking now] and the dragon was turned into a small, dog-sized lizard that couldn't breathe any fire. Fearing that he would get hunted, the dragon went into hiding, and managed to last for a long time, until the spell wore off.
He went off to try and find his rival gargoyle, and found the place of his old castle... To find it in ruins, as with the gargoyle...
The dragon cried, because the last thing that he remembered from back then was gone, and he felt like he had lost a friend.

Needless to say, I got full marks on that story. [luckily, the teacher hadn't ever watched Gargoyles.... Not that it would have really mattered for grade one kids....]

Skip ahead a few years... It is grade six. The worst year of my life. When I was sad and alone, I would go onto my old IBM Aptiva computer, and type 'Edit' into the DOS prompt, and I would write... Nothing really of worth, I haven't been able to save anything from back then. But the action was there...

Skip ahead to grade 7, and I'm... doing slightly better emotionally. However, there came a time in English class that we had to write a story.

I wrote a story of a hidden air force base in Canada, that was attacked by a squad of rush-bombers from Russia. They bombed the place, and ran away quickly before being able to be intercepted. Secret stealth technology and hyper-fast turbojets enabled them to evade being attacked.
However, I, and a group of friends that were training in that base, were hurt. I had a broken leg, which made me mad, since I like to move, my friend Randall, code name 'Phoenix', had both arms broken, and Ryan, code name 'Phantom', had broken ribs. However, the last of my friends, Kevin, code name 'Raptor', was not so lucky.... He was struck on the head, and lingered a few weeks in a hospital as a vegetable, and eventually, died.
In the time it took for me and my friends to recuperate, our friend had died... He was always the quiet one, the one that no one would ever think could hurt anyone... He was the 'Johnny' of our group. [think The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton, that reference won bonus points with the teacher]
However, what was also occurring while we healed, was war. Russia, openly declaring war by attacking a small, hidden air base in Canada, declared war on Canada and it's allied countries. However... The speed, efficiency and stealth that they had bombed at was extraordinary, and the fact that they attacked a secret base, that normally couldn't be found... It scared the generals. Who knew what else the Russians had in store for us?
Upon the grave of our friend Kevin, we vowed to end this war, to ensure that no one else would have to suffer like we had. We took upon our wings, and took off for Russia, under orders from our general. We were to attack... Our target, a massive flying super-bomber that the Russians had created. It could reach super-sonic speeds, had many defense guns, and specialized engines that emanated no heat, making it near-impossible to hit with a good missile...
However, years of training were on our sides. With superior skill and tactics, we out-flanked and out-fought any resistance we met, even though we were fighting against super-technological Russian fighters.
Eventually, however, we met our target.... It cast a shadow for miles around with its wingspan alone, and it had no escort... Yet, we were not to be defeated. Dodging counter-fires of missiles, flak shells and bullets, we weaved through their defenses, getting close enough to attack, and opened fire. My plane had specialized guns that had small explosive tips on the shell, and I ripped apart the engines. Phoenix launched a huge incendiary missile to the wings, where the fuel was kept, ripping a huge hole in it and setting the fuel ablaze, while Phantom struck from hiding with a dumb-fire missile, right to the control cabin of the plane. It went down in flames, defeated and broken, destroying and burning a huge portion of forest under its wake.
Their biggest hope in defeating the Americans destroyed in mere seconds, the Russians surrendered, and peace was restored.

Now, keep in mind this was grade seven... I was... 12 at the time. sheesh.

Then, grade 8....... Another writing assignment was thrown my way.

This time, I kept it short..... But so good.
A man, spending his last dollar on the meager hope that rested upon a single scratch-and-win lottery ticket... The cashier, Tia, was a friend of his, and tried to talk him out of spending his last bit of money on such a silly thing.. He fought back though, and in the end, managed to [halfheartedly] convince her that he was making the right decision.
Slowly, he scratched the first box... A lucky 7. He moved to the second...... Another lucky 7?
Tia took in a small breath of a gasp, and leaned in carefully to watch.
He scratched again....
A lucky 7.
He won.
His last chance at life was spent on this meager ticket, and it had just propelled him into fame.
Tia immediatly began to apologize for trying to convince him out of it. She hugged him, and told him to go home, keep the money, save it, make it last... A mere friend would have asked to have it shared, but Tia's heart was of gold, and asked for nothing, and only wished him luck.

In a daze, he went home.... his pockets bulging with cash, and not knowing his way too perfectly, he went through an alley, into what seemed like a good shortcut home...

To find a sinister voice accosting him, to which he replied nonchalantly to. The keeper of the voice appeared, a large thug with huge fists, followed by nearly a dozen other goons.....

His mind shifted from his daze immediatly to that of pure concentration. He prepared for a fight...

He didn't wait for the fight, he made it.

He charged at the first goon, by far the largest of them, and quickly dodged his punches, striking him again and again, blow after blow... Now getting far too dizzy, the protagonist [yes, who has remained unnamed all these years] grips the biggest goon in his grasp, and swings him towards some of the other muggers, knocking a few back with the huge thug.

He fights on... One after the other, they fall. The ferocity and skill that this man fought with was a useless venture, since he was too swift, he took the initiative and always attacked first, before you were ready, and swiftly brought you to your knees. He watched all his sides, not allowing even a sliver of a chance of being hit on the back...

However, one more thief emerges from the shadows.... His figure is tall, his physique intimidating, and emanated a perfect combination of strength and agility. He introduced himself as the leader of this gang, Remy. He brought from behind him a large piece of wood, and attacks the protagonist so swiftly and so powerfully that he is reduced to merely defending, and eventually, is struck on the head, and brought to the ground.

His consciousness fades, and his view skews....

His mind is now recalling back...... back to his childhood...

A horrific moment, when his brother viciously assaulted him with a knife, nearly killing him. He managed to escape, however, and ran to his neighbors place, of whom weren't home, except for their daughter Sonia..

He manages to get inside the house, locking it, but his brother bursts through the front window, knife at the ready and a psychotic grin on his face. He charges, not for the protagonist, but for Sonia. He swiftly slices her, and she falls to the ground in a slump.

The brother attacks again... he has no choice but to fight...
He loses however, and he faints in his dream.... To wake up to find himself in a hospital, with an oddly familiar face sitting nearby...

The fuzz in his vision dims, and the face is clear... It is that of Sonia herself, now a grown adult, like he now, with a smile on her lips and a small scar under her eye... A remnant of the old attack, proving to him that this is indeed the same person...

On all of the above assignments, I had scored perfect.

In grade nine I wrote a VERY long story, about a time traveler. To recount its events would take far longer than I have the patience to commit to tonight, but of course, then, I won full marks as well.

My trend continued in high school, scoring perfect marks on every written story to be had. On my very last final exam, there was the option to write a story instead of an essay. Of course, I wrote the story.
I scored perfect on it... It is possibly the one reason that I graduated with full credits, not needing to return for another semester to re-do one class....

I still haven't stopped, I only have merely turned to more professional works, ones that I intend to publish. However, I DID start Snowcraft in about the start of high school, and for one assignment in grade 11, I did a gaiden, or side-story if you will, to Snowcraft. I handed it into my teacher, who had read Snowcraft, and enjoyed my story massively. The original version of this story was roughly twenty five pages long, but I had to shorten it, since the maximum amount of pages was fifteen. It was the first story I didn't receive perfect marks on, since when she read it, it seemed very compacted and jumpy, going from one thing to the next quickly... I told her that the original that I had written was far too long for submission, and that I had to shorten it to fit her requirements. She nodded in understanding, but couldn't change my mark, for her criticism still stood.

There's no real long dramatic reason for why I write.... I am merely good at it, and I embrace that skill to the best of my ability.

*coughs*

Yeah, long.... sorry...