Post 4-Why Did You Write This Story?
Compulsion, opportunity, fascination and thirst for understanding drove me to write this story.
It all started with a single question. “Why are we here?”
I know every sentient being, since standing became a fad, has asked that question. Some have offered answers. The answers are usually transcendental or hard science. Neither answer is satisfying. Too many things still made no sense to me. I wanted a different answer, so I searched for my own.
I spent several years mulling the idea until understanding finally surfaced. The inspiration was fascinating and I realized I had a story to tell.
How would I tell it? I had no clue, but the more that I thought about the answer, the stronger my compulsion grew to put my thoughts to paper. However, I still wasn’t committed because my life was too full of distractions, and writing demands contemplation and introspection.
A few years after I realized the potential of my initial concept, my job changed, requiring I work remote from my family. With no television or internet available, I had many hours of free time every day with nothing to do.
In my quest for diversion, movies got boring, so I read several books I had put off. Eventually, my growing apathy made me realize I needed something more fulfilling. I decided to try writing a short story relating to the idea I was ignoring.
I wrote two short stories. Though they trended toward my earlier thoughts, their themes didn’t relate to each other, nor did they directly address the concept I was developing. I considered them a part of a larger framework.
On completion, I sent them around to my family and some friends. The responses were positive and I had several people request more.
That was the beginning of dedicated writing. I went underground and offered nothing more for several years as I researched technology, sciences and constructed a framework on which I could hang the story. Writing was my secret life and the story became the world where I lived when I wasn’t working. Addiction closely describes the way I worked on the book, a secret addiction.
The story so mesmerized me that I found myself merely an observer. The text jumped from my fingers and appeared on my screen where I experienced the character’s lives as a voyeur. I felt their hopes, their love, their frustration, their sadness and their terror, not as I did reading other books, but as a citizen of their world.
When the ending revealed itself, my elation was meteoric and it flowed to the pages with almost no effort. It was epic!
Thus, the answer to that question is simple. Once I had the opportunity, I had to do it. Everyone must know what happened in the lives of these people and someone had to write their story.
Does that make me crazy? Until you read the story, you have no idea.