Painful longing

For starters, I just want to clear up some terminology.

I have a story that goes by many names. Some of these names include

  • 169page story
  • tin story
  • antimony story
  • tin and antimony story

And this story was begun in 2012 and I wrote probably 50 pages of like real draft, in chronological order, than the rest of the 100+ pages are scenes organized by character.

I have read the 50 pages of intro and rising action, and I am actually on page 63, so I am a little bit into the random scenes.

And I am literally so disappointed right now.

I want to read this story. i really want to read this story. i would literally buy this book if I could. If it was already published–then it would be tragic because it was not published by me, even though it’s my story idea. But I love the character and I love the premise and I love the possibilities of where it could go. I need this story. This story has become my life.

I am joking with the becoming my life, but I really do like this story. And I am attached to the characters and their interactions are so unique and I sympathize with the main character so much. She is so like me.

For obvious reasons.

An interesting fact about this story is that it was what I thought my future would be like, written from 2012. So the main character IS ME.

I hope that doesn’t degrade the story in people’s minds. I think the story has a lot of potential. Obviously, I was skimming. The writing, while not terrible, is not good. This is not a manuscript. This is a first draft. A draft that I wrote in 2012, at that. No drafts I wrote in 2012 are ready for publication. No drafts I wrote so far in 2015 are ready for publication. That’s how publication

Yet, this story shows a lot of potential. The ideas are good. The ideas are there. They just have to be worked with.

And it’s really interesting to come back to a story that I wrote in 2012. I have a new perspective now. So much new perspective. I am so much different now than I was in 2012. I am so much different now than I was in January 2015. Life changes people. That’s how life is supposed to work, I think. In my opinion. Why would someone want to be the same person they were last year? Everyone actually gets a completely new body every six months. That is to say, every 6 months, every single cell in a person’s body is a new cell, wasn’t there 6 months ago. Cells constantly go through mitosis, some cells more than others, but yeah, 6 months is when a person has a completely new body. So why should the mindset, point of view, and thought processes that a person has be the same too?

It doesn’t mean everyone should be a hypocrite, and blow hot and cold. Core values and morals and things like that do not have to change, in my opinion. Every scrap of data that we collect each day–millions and billions and trillions of scraps of data a day–gets added to our databases and that constantly changes our point of view. Even if it’s “the same” data over and over again, that still changes a perspective because it strengthens it.

That rant was basically to prove that I have a new perspective and looking at my old story through that lens is really interesting. More on that later, I think,

For now, I am going to just sit here and wish I had written that novel already.

And then, when I am done with that, I am going to write that novel.


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