Writer Without a Story

So the title of this blog may seem a little odd as many of you know I've had various stories to work on over the past few years. Well, recently, I've been stuck in a bit of a rut. AGAIN. (tell me about it).

I've been working on 'my story' for almost a year now, however, that project has proved challenging in recent months as I'm moving into a different stage of healing. It became harder and harder to regurgitate the things that happened during those dark months, and the months of battle years prior to that, as I'm moving past that stage. Perhaps it would have been valuable to chronicle every second of that time as I was going through it--yes, and more economical as well. But that wasn't the case. I am still plugging away on it, but it's in pieces now as I've moved to discussing happier times, times of growth and movement rather than stale (valuable) yet stale states of pain and paralysis. It was stressing me out, dragging me down--pick your cliche description and slap it on. So it was added to the 'these-books-are-written-in-pieces-out-of-chronological-order-slash-will-one-day-be-epic-once-finished-slash-need-more-time-and-energy-to-complete' shelf. Honestly, from a practical perspective, I've been thinking that might be something I write AFTER I'm an established writer as a memoir type thing--not the best material to start throwing at agents and publishers.

Then I pulled out my last completed novel (finished when I was 15), which was a shaky story, but had great characters. I started doing a complete overhaul on that story last summer--deleted a lot of it and need to finish doing some mass deletions and a few rewrites and it could be ready to submit to an agent. However, it's definitely YA and that isn't great. It's doable, but not great. So I need to finish those edits and then I can move ahead. But, quite frankly, I hate editing. I like creating so I didn't really feel I was using it as my creative outlet when that was all I focused on.

Then there's my decade old Africa novel that is still a work in progress. That one is written in order thus far, but lots of pieces missing. I still think it should be a screenplay sometimes and have gone back and forth about it. And, sure, I get it. You're thinking, 'Just write it.'Yeah. Easier said than done. That's also a super old story to me now and that is this out of control, epic historical fiction drama. For every few lines written, there is loads of research that has to be done. It's a painstaking process. So call me lazy, but that's been exhausting.


So it was either wanting to kill myself from boredom and all things structure from the editing process or having to do mega research in order to write a few lines, or throw myself into depression to work on my other story, which is a jumbled mess since I have a version that's first person and a version that's third person and can't figure out which voice is best for the whole thing. Plus there's the dark beginning, a happy end, and no middle--that's the (inspirational) dark part that I'm shying away from.

So for the last few months, I've said the following statement a few times into the air as a whisper, a quiet tantrum minus the foot stomping and screaming types I was so known for as a three year old. It was an exhausted, sad whimper sent to God, to people everywhere, the world, anyone.

"I'm a writer without a story and I feel so lost."

And so, I dejectedly decided to wait. (Let's be honest, what else could I do, but that's classic control freakish behavior, right?) I thought to myself that a story would fly by one of these days and I would catch it and maybe start creating again. Let's be clear--I haven't CREATED a new story in years. I have been wishing for a story that is simple, easy to write, something that doesn't require tons of research (maybe a bit to get started, but not constantly like my Africa story). Something easy to tell, easy to write, easy to use as an outlet when I need to "get away" for a bit.

I've toyed with the idea of making the "happy" part of my own story into a love story. (I've never written a love story and the thought is daunting). Lowering myself to the level of a women's fiction love story is a bit hard to spit out of my mouth, but it sounds relaxing, fun, cute, sweet, and easy(ier) than what I've been working. After all, I have one hell of a love story (two, actually, if I'm honest with myself on a good day). So turning that into some sweet third person story during which I can use the highlights of my own as the outline and fill in some fun details here and there sounds nice. But I can't figure out a cool setting in which to set it. I need to build the fictional structure and I'm waiting for that idea.

So I've been happily waiting for that story to hit me in the head one day, fully anticipating that it would be this one that I work on next.

Well, as luck would have it, something else hit me in the head today. And for the first time in over ten years, I felt "the feeling." I haven't gone through the complete novel process--idea, writing, edition--since before I started college. All of my completed books were written in my younger years, and while some of them are awesome, are geared toward a much younger audience. I haven't 'created' anything in several years.

When I used to get my initial ideas and lay out story lines, my body would kind of go into shock. I would get suddenly exhausted. With my Africa story idea, some interesting things have happened during that writing process. Some of them you actually wouldn't believe or would think crazy if I explained, so I'm not going to do that here. Let's just say some strange things have happened over the years that kept me from finishing it when I originally got the idea in my teens. When I initially got the idea, I became extremely exhausted and almost depressed for a couple of days. I don't know why. I chalk it up to the 'emotional artist' side of me that rarely comes out. It's illogical and definitely inconvenient--definitely 'un-Katie.' But I moved past it and outlined and wrote the first few chapters of that book (and haven't gotten much farther in years since for a number of reasons).

Well, that happened today. I got an idea. I got all shaky and the butterflies were definitely there. Then I was exhausted--deeply so--and somber the rest of the day. I'd forgotten the feeling actually and began remembering how my  parents would try to get me out of that when I was younger. They were so sweet.

It's not the easy, happy, surreal version of my own love story that I've been waiting for. But it's not an old story with lots of edits or quite at the Africa story level of research either. It's something I can do some basic research for and then sort of 'just go with it' from there.

Also, it's serial. Weird for me and brand new.

It's free enough to let me create future characters to my heart's content and move the story line lots of different ways in lots of different places. It's something I know and also something I need to know more about. It's relevant. It's current. (Sort of like my Africa story, but even more so).

It's something that I can believe in (unlike women's fiction love stories, thank you very much). It's real. It's sort of nitty-gritty as far as content and it's something I would feel good writing about.

It's sellable. (I think).

And more than that, it fits the message--my message to the world that has been sort of starting to form lately.

You see, lately, I've really been wondering if my story has been silent because I don't know what I want to say to the world. I've had things bubbling up all these years and I don't exactly know what even I'm trying to say. What has every story of mine said? What message do I think I was uniquely created to say? I don't know! I hadn't known but since I've been pouting about being storyless, I've been pondering these questions.

The exact, succinct words are yet to show up. I don't have my mission statement yet. But I am getting a raw idea of my underlying message. It's largely derived from thoughts about my own experiences in the last couple of years and oddly ties in with the messages (previously unknown to me) in the last three novels I was working on (Africa, massive-edits, and my own story). So as I've come through my late adolescent and early adult years, those messages have been underneath everything without my knowing it. So how do I verbalize it?  That's what I've been wondering.

After I got the idea and as I laid on the couch in this sort of foggy, dark exhaustion, I realized that the plot directly communicates my words, my message. Those were my last thoughts before falling asleep and waking much more clear, alert and energetic. I woke up and thought...ok.

So this is a note to let those of you who care know what's up with my writing. It's also a way to be accountable to myself. Honestly, I'd started to think I was one of those people who couldn't ever finish anything after looking at my own explanations for not writing all these stories. As a linear thinking, control freakish, impatient perfectionist, I like to finish things quickly, efficiently, according to plan, and very well. So having unfinished novels bugs the heck out of me.

The mature, wise Yoda-ish version of me lately has been giving myself to finish these stories when the words for each flow easily. That will happen in its own time for each story. I can't control that. It isn't laziness or lack of organization--it's timing. Each story will get fully written at the right time, I have to trust that--not force it or I and the stories will suffer.

Those of you who know me know that I pendulum swing between these two types of thinking on a minute by minute basis. :) But, now, hopefully I can move in this new direction that I can research and sort of attack. It's good to work on new stuff, new ideas, new everything. I've been stuck on the same stories for so long, even getting this idea and watching myself go through the same processes I did when I was younger, before I knew what was going on, the impact writing would have on my life, before it was a process, when it was just a hobby, when the experiences were honest, raw, real because I wasn't old enough or aware enough for them to be anything else.

So a toast tonight to the "new," and to "the right time" for everything. And three cheers to me and my new story and let's see what happens.