FICTION

The Perfect Story

Is it even possible to believe in the impossible?

As every other person, I have been given each of the unavoidable truths that apply to everyone before I was considered old enough. My folks have told me everything they thought was necessary for me to become my own person. I have been given the ideas of growing up, graduating, going to college, getting married. Like a book with filled words, my life has been combined before I could even say anything regarding it. Nonetheless, I believe my parents wanted the best of the kind for me. They have prepared me to be my best self, and I promised myself I would.

To words regarding how I feel, now and then it simply has neither rhyme nor reason. I would never comprehend the reason why might writers from years ago compose stories and pieces where there is no ending or it is open to comprehension. How could you give your reader the opportunity to make out anything they desire from your story? When you have so much power in your hands, it makes no sense why would you ever ponder doing that. This was before I considered myself a serious writer.

I had been sitting before my computer for a really long time attempting to write the perfect story. I have been let a few times know that my first draft will be the most horrendous I might at any point write. Yet, I can’t begin writing something utterly without contemplating how off-base the words could stream together. One error in a sentence could change the whole meaning of my story. It is too scary for me to bear this responsibility!

I had given myself hours to polish a new world in a paper. One that would cause a few readers to feel like they have a place or something they can relate to. However, the main thing I can think of is books. Each of the popular writers who made to be best sellers and who won’t ever need to stress over anything else. And I ask myself if I would ever be like any of them. I attempt to not think often about being successful, however, the more achievement the more I can write, isn’t that so?

I have written many stories. Some were very good while others were incredibly horrible. Nonetheless, I will not lose trust in my fantasies. I will not look to a future where I’m done writing.

An hour passed, and I abruptly loosen up my hands against the keyboard of my little laptop and begin writing. Pictures fly around like I was watching a film in the theater; except I have created it. My creative mind streams more than ever and I don’t stop until my fingers are worn out and my brain is completely drained.

It had been two thousand words and I have not halted. My phone blaring right close to me resembles a melody getting me to compile much more words. Although I realized people would think something happened to me while I didn’t answer their messages, I would not mind at all.

When I stop, I have five pages before me. A portion of the words are incorrectly spelled and my laptop is battling to let me know the number of missteps I have made with punctuation and other things. Just fifteen minutes have passed and I could sit before my laptop and relax.

My main character, as though jumping out of the pages of my story is suddenly staring at me. He is exactly the way I imagined him to be. He smiles and gets closer to me, bending over to look over my writing. He skims through it as if making sure I have written the best story for him, and then he stands straight without saying anything.

When he was gone, I realized I had something. I had something uniquely amazing in my hands because my character and I had settled on a mind-blowing story. I began to think how nobody at any point could go against me. Nobody might check out my story and let me know it was not unique. I have indeed written my story for the reader, however, first I have composed for me and for the delight of doing so.

At the end of the day, I began editing.

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