The Wayward Writer Returns

I’ve been a writer, or fancied myself one, since my handwriting made chicken scratch look like calligraphy. I was given a diary with pink pages, purple fairies on the cover, and a lime green padlock for my eighth or ninth birthday and I filled it in a matter of weeks. Mostly about how much I hated my younger sister and some of the drama that happens in primary school.

Ever since then, I have always kept a diary. I made a point to write in it at least once a day, sometimes twice. If I ran out of time one night, I quickly scratched down my thoughts, perched on the end of my bed, sitting in half pyjamas, half school uniform. This became incredibly important to me during those horrifying high school years when everything seemed more dramatic than it really was. But I had an out. If something didn’t go my way at school, or at home, I’d fictionalise it. I’d try to get inside the head of the person who had antagonised me and sort it out from there. Or even write an alternate ending to my reality. And once my pen was down and my diary was closed, I always felt better. Without fail.

But once Year twelve was over, I was on my own. No structure in my day-to-day life, no real routine. So there was nothing to rebel against; nothing to force me into my fantasy world. But every once in a while I was overcome by the urge to write. Not anything in particular; just the urge to have some kind of writing implement in my hand. (This mood  once helped me write a short story with nothing but the colour grey and Anberlin’s “Alexithymia” to inspire me.) These urges became further and further apart until one day, earlier this year, the mood struck me and I was floored. You see, I study Creative and Professional Writing at QUT. So most of my assignments and exams revolve around creative writing. Finding myself wanting to write more was a shock to the system. Unfortunately, I was at work at the time happened so by the time I got home the mood had passed, helped along by the lingering smell of Subway on my clothes.

But the other day, I sat behind my laptop for the first time in years and spent the day writing. Six hours in total. I’d forgotten how quickly time passes when you’re in your imagination. It wasn’t for any assignment or competition – it was just for me. And guess what? It was that fan fiction I was talking about yesterday. So say what you will about fan fiction, but it inspired me to write again. I had forgotten the sheer joy of seeing your thoughts turning to words on the screen, or paper, in front of you. Now my head is literally teeming with ideas for this blog. I honestly had about five other ideas floating around before I decided on this one. And I haven’t had this in such a long time.

So because of this, I am going to be brave and put that story up on here. You can judge me if you want: but what I would prefer is solid, honest criticism. I tried my best to be true to the characters of Ugly Betty, but if anything seems unbelievable to you, then just let me know. And I will change it quick smart, because I take my characters seriously.

(I’ll put the story in a separate post because I know how difficult it is to sit at your computer and read for too long. So if you want to read it, just check out my next post.)

Advertisements

About Bec Graham

Bec Graham, 24, was born on the wrong continent. Everything from her burns-like-paper skin tone to her inability to cope with the slightest hint of a hot day suggests she should have been born under the gloomy skies and mild sun of the UK. She hopes writing will get her to her rightful home one day. Failing that, she scans the skies for a spinning blue police box, hoping to catch a lift back to the motherland.
This entry was posted in Musings and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Wayward Writer Returns

  1. carriej56 says:

    Thanks for the link to me! I like your blog style, I work on the same principle, if you gotta write you gotta write, mine just happens to be my blog…it is addictive and unlike yourself I was never a diarist, hated writing (apart from poetry) isn’t it strange how things change as you get older x

    • Bec Graham says:

      No worries! Us writers have to support each other.

      And writing is so cathartic. I think it’s all that keeps me sane some days. 🙂

      • carriej56 says:

        Yep, know EXACTLY what you mean, I’m trying to diet so keep my food diary online, it means I have something to look back on and to embarrass my kids with when they are older! 😉 (sometimes you just gotta embrace fanfiction, in all it’s weirdness)

  2. Bec Graham says:

    God, I’m trying to do the same thing. Doesn’t go so well when I have rebellious tonsils that demand junk food.
    And embarrassing the next generation; isn’t that what life’s all about?
    (Also, I do embrace fan fiction. I’ve written it for years. I had one that I was going to rewrite and turn into a novel. But my old computer crashed 😦 What did you think of mine?)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s