Today I had a rather unusual experience. I know that writers use their own experiences while writing, but, for the first time, I wrote something really personal, and it feels, well, different.
So for a little bit of background. Recently, I’ve started writing short stories. At first, it was hard, the stories were supposed to be short so the plot couldn’t be anything huge. But after a bit of experimenting, I got used to writing in a short form.
At first, I went with some ideas I made up, basing the whole story on my creativity. But then I had an idea, I wrote about something that I considered an issue. I put my thoughts in words, creating a utopian world and a character that spoke to me. That was the first time I wrote a utopian story, and I realised that it had so much power compared to my other works.
I figured I’d write about things I see, about problems that seem important. That by itself made me put something more into the stories than ever before. It’s hard to find a new idea all the time, but going to different places and talking with different people really helps. Sometimes I’d have an epiphany in the most unexpected moment, and the idea wouldn’t always be related to the situation I’m in. But it works. Somehow, it works.
But today… I had an idea for a story maybe a couple of days ago… maybe it was a week, who knows. I created a new Google docs file, titled it with one word. It was pretty much enough for me to know what the idea was. I actually stuck with that title, too. Basically, the story was supposed to be about things that make us different, and that those differences aren’t a bad thing.
Today I sat down and wrote the story. Man, did I surprise myself.
Maybe I should make one thing clear, I used to be bullied. It was a couple of years ago, but it lasted a couple of years, too. Bullying can really be terrible, and it took me a while to get back on my feet. I tried writing something about that some time ago but I could never really do that. That is, until now. I guess, back then, it still was a sensitive topic or something.
But now, I finished writing a story about just that. Bullying. I wrote a character I can very much relate to. And, what’s surprising, that’s not all there is to progress. The character I wrote, it was clear she moved on. She made peace with her fears and what happened in the past, and she gave advice to a younger girl that was bullied, too. In the end, she walked off with a smile. That’s the moment when I actually realised that that’s exactly where I am now, emotionally speaking. I moved on.
That story was draining to write, too. Don’t get me wrong, there wasn’t any crying or anything. I just wrote a story, poured my heart into it. And when I finished, I realised how tired I was. But I think it was worth it. Definitely. Because not only did I find something out about myself, but also sent a message to others (or rather I will when I publish it). Hopefully, it’ll do what it’s intended to do.
Writing personal stories isn’t always easy. But, in the end, there’s much more power behind those stories. Not to mention some personal benefits 🙃
Peace ✌️
Steph
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