Every time I put on a show, watch a movie or read a story and it ends up taking dark turns and characters get buried as rain falls over a crying crowd, I just can’t handle it anymore. I will walk away from that story.
I don’t know what it is. When I was a kid I would often write sad endings to my own stories, almost every time actually. The main character would die or lose something very important to them. I guess I saw happy endings as too cliche and expected. But today? That sad stuff just makes me depressed.
I can’t handle characters dealing with dark times and not having any hope left. I can’t deal with it going on for too long. I don’t mean that I don’t want any downs in a story, or for characters to never be sad; it’s just that if they’re sad for too long or a tragedy is too big to really get over fully it hurts too much.
Maybe the sad endings I used to write...well...ended once I fell into my depression. Maybe now I relate too much or get bad memories from seeing characters suffer too much in a story? I make it personal I guess.
It’s frustrating when people hype things up with comments like “oh it’s so good, anyone can die!” or “I literally got my heart ripped out omg the feels”. Because I don’t want those feels, and I feel like the dark things are often taken as more serious and real, and the happy stuff is childish. Like, where’s the twist in having all your characters alive at the end? Yeah maybe there isn’t one, but why does it matter?
Is a story really that bad if you know for sure that none of the characters will die during it? I don’t think so... To me it’s...comforting. I read to escape. Not to feel worse. Of course it’s not wrong to like the dark shit...I just...don’t. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of dark turns in stories I enjoy literally ruining my day. It’s a personal issue I need to solve, I know, but it’s still frustrating.
Like, a roller coaster is fun yes? All those ups and downs and slight fear as you drop! I love it. But I don’t love it as much when that drop never ends and the cart just plunges into darkness. I’m tired of the dark.
Watching this writeblr mess is weird because my wip is literally about fucking up, apologising and it not being good enough for forgivness. So ive got some thoughts tm (dunno how to do the fancy smol tm)
"I'm sorry" doesn't fix anything. Actions do. Explaining why you did something doesn't erase the fact that you did it.
It might feel impossible to change, to know where to begin but...first thing you do is aknowledge your mistakes. Once you've done that you fix your mistakes and find out how you avoid making them again. This isn't something people can do for you either. It's on you.
It's 2am why can't I stop thinking about this shit.
(I just feel like writing this because I have a lot of thoughts at the moment just...spinning in my head. It might get long so I’m keeping it under a cut).
So this wednesday my parents had to let our oldest dog go to sleep. She was so tired. Apparently the veterinarians called her a miracle dog, because she almost made it to 15, which is very old.
I remember the day my parents brought her home. I was around 6 or 7. We had never had a dog before, only birds, and had spoken about getting one for ages. Finally we would have one.
She was younger than expected. The owner said she was 4 but she was really only 2. She had so much energy, running around her new home, checking out every little corner. It was adorable.
We always forgot her name in the beginning, because Ghanda isn’t exaclty that common, so we would call her Ghandi or Gandalf instead.
Eventually we realized she needed a friend, so we got her one. Her name was Smulan, a very scared and thin dog. We don’t know what had happened to her, but it couldn’t have been good.She did like Ghanda though, and after a while she wasn’t as skinny and was also running around, still scared of strangers but not as much.
So now we had two that were close in age, still young and lively. We moved to a bigger place and found another dog that needed a home, so we took her in. Her name was Isa, and she would sometimes get into arguments with the others, because she was so damn jelous, but they still liked eachother. A small family of three, Ghanda being the leader.
But then one day, shortly after we had moved again, Smulan suddenly got sick. We were told that it would pass, that it was only her stomach not feeling well and that’s why she could barely walk and didn’t want to eat. But that night when we went to sleep, she didn’t wake up again.
Now there was only Ghanda and Isa. Ghanda was getting old by now, and we didn’t expect her to live longer than a couple of more years, so we decided to bring home a younger dog so that Isa wouldn’t end up alone. She was 2 and her name is Nova.
But again, horrible things can happen without any warnings. I went downstairs one day to get some water, and Isa was laying on the floor barely breathing. Mom was trying to get a hold of a veterinarian and my sister dissappeared outside, not wanting to see (which I get. It was difficult seeing her like that). I stayed though, sat down where she was laying and tried to calm her down, while also telling myself not to panic. That it would be different this stime. This wasn’t Smulan. It wouldn’t happen again.
I followed my mother to another town to get her to a veterinarian. She stopped breathing in the waiting room.
Now we had Ghanda and Nova left. A lively puppy and an old grandma.
You could tell that both of them changed. Ghanda lost her last friend from the old days, and Nova always followed Isa around, sleeping beside her under the stairs, almost laying on top of her. So we had to get her a friend.
Her name is Hallon. Barely 2 years old and has more energy than all our previous dogs together.
But it was different this time. Hallon would follow Nova and pretty much ignore Ghanda. We always saw Ghanda as the leader in the group but now when she was so old, Nova seemed to have taken her place.
She was still so strong though. So damn strong. She would get up and down the stairs even though her back legs were shaking. She would jump onto the couch and always come jogging everytime someone came home, just as happy as in her early days. Sometimes she was sleeping, but as soon as she noticed you had come home she would get up.
Even on long walks she carried on, never stopping even though she was tired, because she loved walking, exploring.
But even though her will was unbreakable, her body couldn’t keep up for that much longer. So, the day had to come eventually.
Her death wasn’t a surprise. I said goodbye before I left because I knew I wouldn’t see her again. But it was nice knowing for once, not waking up in chock because a seemingly healthy dog had passed. I’m more relieved that she got to live a full life unlike the others.
She was our first dog. I love her with all my heart and she will always be special. Our strong little Ghanda, stubborn and smart. I’m so glad you lived for so long, but I have always felt that if someone would get that old, it would be you, because you have always been like that, carrying on even when you’re tired. You stayed strong till the very end.
So thank you Ghanda, you truly were a miracle dog.
I always describe things a lot rather than having things happen. I enjoy painting pictures with words and creating settings, describing scents, how the grass bends in the wind and the way the sun lights up the dust on the road.
Sometimes I would actually call this one of my strenghts? But I also know that I can’t make a story with only settings. It might look pretty and help the reader see the world. But I seriously need to control myself more because I need things to happen or else I won’t have a story.
This is nothing new. I think it has always been like this? It’s what I love with stories, the fact that you get to enter another world. So I tend to focus a lot on that.
It’s what I always have in my head before I write. I don’t outline a story, I don’t plan more than the most basic things about the plot. What I do plan though is what the world will look like, how it works, how it’s run, the different societies, how the characters are connected to it, what they do, where this world came from and sometimes complicated systems I’ll never use.
One time I made really detailed descriptions of different airships for an unfinished story. I described how much damage one would take if another type attacked. Its strenghts. Its weaknesses. Different types within the types, because people will make new versions so of course I have to make upgrades, but those upgrades might create new weaknesses. And so on.
I spent hours on this, and I never used it. I couldn’t put all those details in the actual story because it became too complicated and boring to read. But I really loved making it.
Whenever I’ve thought about creating a story it has never been: “I want to tell people this. I want them to hear this story”. Instead it’s always: “I want them to see this world”.
I think this is why I have such problems finishing something when I start, because as soon as I’m passed the worldbuilding, when the story is the only thing left to work out, I get lost? Because that’s not why I started. I have a character and I have a world. That’s all I have when I write the first word, and it’s what I have the most fun with. Of course I enjoy the story part too, but I have never been able to put as much details into it.
I kinda just throw my characters into a world and see what happens to them. There is a problem, and they somehow have to solve it. I don’t know how they will, or even if they will. All I know is how the world will respond to their actions. Sometimes this is fun, but sometimes it can seriously be a pain.
I want to keep writing on my story, but I’ve had a realization that I was scared I would have, and that is that the whole thing is...it’s pretty boring.
I don’t want to abandon it but I also don’t know how to fix it. Maybe I should just keep going and see what happens. I know I tend to get stuck on things and stop myself from continuing because of it.
I used to post stories online at one point. It was very helpful and made me grow a lot as a writer, and I remember loving it. Loving the helpful comments I got, the new people I met and just knowing that people read and enjoyed what I made.
But I also remember apologizing, a lot. After each chapter I would write a small comment, about how I hoped that people would like it and that critique was very welcome. But I would apologize. Apologize for “the shittiness”, for it being “too short”, for it not “being good”. As if it was in my power to suddenly make it all perfect and without flaws?
I would apologize for simply making something, for not being good enough.
At one point when I was writing one of these parts I kinda...stopped. I looked at the apology and suddenly realized that it had no meaning there; it was just an empty word in this context. I asked myself “what am I apologizing for?”
I now believe that I wanted to make sure that people knew that I didn’t think my writing was perfect, and that I could see the flaws. I didn’t want them to think that I thought I was good, because thinking you’re good at something “is arrogant”, and coming off as arrogant was...is my biggest fear.
My “sorry” wasn’t an apology. I wrote it to push myself down, to make sure that I didn’t believe too much in myself and what I had made. Because I had to make sure that I didn’t go blind, get arrogant.
"I’m not supposed to think that I’m good enough, and I have to apologize for it.”
This is only something I’ve realized recently though. Back then I just questioned it, and I realized that what I was doing only had a negative impact on myself. I wanted to like what I made, I wanted to be able to like what I made. The empty apology was standing in the way, and while the thought of actually enjoying what I made still scared me, I wanted to take a small step towards it.
So I stopped. I deleted the apology.
I can’t remember if I ever did it again, I wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, but it isn’t common. Of course such a small thing had no huge impact on me and how I look at my work. It might actually seem very insignificant to you. But it has stayed with me since that moment, for all these years, and I’m happy I took that step.
Why would I apologize for simply trying? For making something? Unless someone is hurt by it and comes to me, there’s no reason for me to say that I’m sorry.
Because I’m not sorry for not making perfect things. I’m not sorry for the flaws in my work.
...If I keep writing 1 chapter each month it’s going to take me another year to finish this first draft... And I don’t think I’m ok with that.
Sure, I know that I’m not supposed to rush things, that I should write in whatever pace that feels best for me, and what I have time for, but... 1 more year?
I want this finished before the end of summer, because of pretty big reasons.
Those being: I don’t know where the fuck I’ll be after it.
I’m graduating this year. In a few months actually (holy shit?) and I plan on studying game development after that. I’m going to apply for schools soon now. But, I have no idea if I’ll get in, and if I do, how much time will I have for writing then? If I don’t, then again, how much time will I have? I’m going to have to find a job, no idea what. Maybe I’ll look into being a substitute teacher or something.
For now, I know exactly where I stand and how much time I have. I know my schedule. Today I do have time for writing, it’s just that I have trouble focusing and actually getting to it.
So I don’t want to risk it. I want this draft to be done before the end of summer, while I still have ground under my feet. I just don’t know how to actually make that happen.
