Who I'm Writing For

Today, on my way home from work, I made the mistake of telling yet another person about the book that I'm writing. My answer is almost instinctive and compulsive. "What are you up to these days?" Turns into a five-minute unsatisfactory conversation about my writing life. Inevitably, I never get the reaction I'd like, but instead, a short silence then a, "well isn't that something". I then automatically have to justify what I'm doing—because the truth is, that yes I'm unpublished, and until I make it out there somewhere, I feel silly calling myself a writer. So my conviction doesn't ring true, to myself or to the person I'm talking to. 

And now I've just added a whole other person who is waiting for me to produce something. Another person I'm writing for, along with my parents, my 12th grade English teacher, the bulk of my relatives residing in Bolivia, my closest friends, a coworker who works in a cubicle next to mine, habib from the gas station down the street, all the faculty members in a certain English department, the masses in North America, and beyond. 

As I begin to write I picture all these people I'm writing for and I choke. I can't get out a coherent, pretty sentence on paper. All because I just put all this pressure onto my shoulders from an invisible audience. Does every writer have this predicament or am I the crazy one? If I'm not crazy, how does anyone ignore the rampaging blather in one's head? 

The best thing I can do for myself is to remember why I like stories. My best friend has me tell her bed-time stories whenever she crashes at my place (my best friend is twenty-six—how endearing is this?). I've told many (her favorite is Atalanta), and my favorite part of telling them is her reaction. She "oohs", "ahhs" and gasps in all the right moments, and all I've done is recount, in my own words, a simple Greek myth. That's the power behind words right? The ability to move people, to evoke emotions, to make people feel. I love being able to do that, and if I can, I'd love to do it through my words. Through my stories. How hard can this really be?

Turns out, it's a pretty formidable task, even without all the voices in my head.

Today, I'm still working on the emotional arc of my main character. I'm writing a Young Adult fantasy book, and though I'd love to say more–I shouldn't. I'll only tell you the title of the book, mostly because I want to personalize "novel", so when I write, I'm working on The Mapmaker of Merivale, you'll know what I'm talking about. 

Thanks for reading.