The Magic of Writing

Sometimes I forget what a privilegeDepositphotos_68598973_original I have by being able to write stories.

First a disclaimer: this is not an arrogant piece about how great a writer I am. I’m actually very insecure as a writer and can still hardly believe others want to read my stories. This is not a call for compliments either. This is merely about my craft.

I am a lucky person for being able to conjure up and write down stories. To me, writing comes as easy as say: cooking a meal when you have the right ingredients. I can sit down and write a story without much difficulty. I say I forget this, because to me it comes pretty natural. I have a way with words, a good feel for languages and a large fantasy to come up with the strangest situations. When looking at my husband for example, I realize this is not always the case. He has a large fantasy and can come up with the most amazing stories. But he cannot write them down. He wouldn’t know what words to use, how to structure a story and he doesn’t feel the need. This is not a fault of his. It is not wrong. It just made me realize that I, as a writer, am different and harness some certain skills.

For as long as I can remember I have written stories. Always short stories, with the exception of one longer fan fiction story. They haven’t always been sexual stories, but recently most have. My ‘gift for writing’ is not exclusive to writing stories. I can write reviews, I have written academical essays and I can even write poetry if I put my mind to it. I only need inspiration and time.

No, writing is not always easy to me. I wish it were. Most of the time nothing comes out. I can have a great idea or no inspiration at all. Sometimes all the sentences I write are plain crap. Sometimes checking Pinterest for the one thousandth time is way more interesting than trying to cram out words. Even reading Twitter and seeing the same cat pictures over and over again can be a hundred times more alluring than conjuring up my own world and having characters do what I want them to do.

But do you know what my best scenes and stories are? When an image grips me and I feel compelled to write it down. Sometimes it deals with a story I am currently writing, sometimes it doesn’t. It can be a random image, like when I saw a stool in my house and I saw my main character sitting on that stool with her legs spread and my male character touching her in that position. Usually a vision like that will not go away until I have written it down and it often comes out as a ‘good scene’, one that gets approved by me.

So am I happy that I have this gift? Usually? No, I’m not. I’d much rather be able to watch television without feeling guilty. I wish I could go out to clubs and dance and drink and fulfil my life that way. But I can’t. I need to force myself to go to my writing room with a healthy cup of herbal tea and focus on my story. And of course, once it’s going it feels great. I get this gut feeling that I am doing important things, that the real ‘me’ gets to have her say. And yes, sometimes when I reread something I have written a couple of weeks earlier I can even be a bit proud of what I have written. Sometimes the stories are actually good. But it’s a never-ending quest. I will never write my last word until the day I die. Writers do not retire. Writers are meant to do their magic and share it with the world. And that’s what I’m doing now.

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