I’m way out of my depth with this new short story. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a football field and everyone is bombarding with … well, anything they can get their hands on … it’s painful.
Writing about aliens on another planet meant I, the author, had to have some idea what these aliens were like. Do they eat, sleep and drink? How do they reproduce? What is their purpose in life? Why did they do whatever it was I was going to get them doing in the story?
Hmm, why indeed. I sat on my bed this morning, paper spread out around me, and realised I was in too deep and had no idea what I was doing.
Poor G, he must hate it when this happens to me. I must have sounded like I was three years old child. “G, what am I going to do?”
I expected him to shrug his shoulders and say I’m the writer and I should have other ideas to run with. If he had said that he might have got a slap on the head. As I’m against violence in the real world (it’s not that bad in stories, however) I’m glad he didn’t say that. Instead, he turned to me and said, “How’s this for an idea…”
Ten minutes later he had outlined a complete story. It’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. I hope I can write it brilliantly.
I already feel as if I’m more within my comfort zone. I still have to stretch myself and be convincing, and there are still aliens, but I will have a bit more control with this plot. *sigh of relief*
Strangely, this story feels like it wants to be written in first person, but I’ll see how that pans out when I start writing – which I still intend to do today. Well, tonight actually. Right now, I have to get ready to go out, but before I do that I just want to congratulate Sherry for receiving an invitation too.