Serial Stories

I often have a difficult time just sitting down and writing, specifically when it comes to writing any sort of short story, it truly baffles me. Stories float around in my head, bending and warping, and they just sort of sit there. I don't really touch them. Occasionally I may pick one out and start to write it but once I've started the act of writing, the story goes away and I can no longer think on it.

This poses a real big problem for me. I want to write novels that people cherish and enjoy reading but I am wholly unable to focus on something quite so lengthy. This blog is really a place for me to experiment with my writing style and try to find things that work for me. I'm quite able to write personal thoughts down without any effort and on occasion I can write down small editorial-esque type pieces. I am proud of my writing, I feel that it is strong, well written and concise, but I need more practice with fiction.

I've devised a plan that will hopefully alleviate the issue of forcing stories out of my head by working on them more slowly and over a long period of time. Very much the same thing that Charles Dickens did with many of his novels. Though I don't have a particular public outlet, other than here, for any sort of exposure. I am hoping though, that regardless of whether anyone reads my stories, this method will allow me to work on a singular piece until it's completion.

Depending on how my day turns out I may kick things off tonight with a fresh story that started brewing in my head this morning. It's a bit of a departure for me in terms of subject, but then again I do like to float around with different ideas until one makes sense to me.

Something Wicked [poem]

Something wicked this way comes,
gas masks on, they carry their guns.
For freedom, they march
for the nation, they bark.

Yet who am I to question the game?
They pay all my bills, give me a name,
watch me as I'm walking home,
make me think my property's my own.

And yet I feel this sudden urge
to free myself, to fight and purge,
not just for myself but loved ones too,
and try to squeeze my foot into shoe.

But a freedom fighter, sadly, I'm not.
I'm rather complacent stuck in this plot
of secrecy, lies, corruption and greed
until finally one day our visions are freed.

This piece came out of nowhere. I've been watching a lot of dystopian future type stuff lately though and am really beginning to notice similarities to our current political climate.

Regardless, I really felt a desire to write some poetry and this is basically what I had in mind. Nothing spectacular for certain but hopefully you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading!