Getting My Feet Wet

I owe this website a debt of gratitude. It was this site that prompted me to complete and post a story online for the first time ever, even though I have been writing for a very long while. Maybe I should explain myself.

I have dozens of stories and essays that I have written in my files, all in various stages of completion. But, sadly enough, I am afflicted with a disease called "obsessive editing," which prevents any of my work from ever seeing the light of day. This disease may serve me well in some ways, but it is obviously not conducive to the timely completion of work, so that it can be shared with others.

The symptoms of the disease always seem to play out in this fashion:

First, I get a good idea for a story, and decide that I will write it. Then I go into pre-writing mode; conjuring up all the characters, venues, and plot points I will use, and setting them firmly in my mind. So far, so good-right? Wrong. Because the next thing is to actually put my thoughts down on paper (figuratively speaking, as I use a word processor). And therein, my friends, lies the rub.

I usually start out in splendid fashion, with a killer opening sentence that will grab the reader's attention and set the tone for what follows. Examples of some of the crummiest opening sentences I have used include: 1. " Like it or not, today was the day." 2. " Paul Goodwin stepped back and admired the rose bush he had just planted in the ground that encased the body of his dead wife." 3. " He hated to bathe, but in this case it would be necessary." Then there's my all time favorite, "It stinks in here," spoken by a character who has just entered a seafood restaurant in the bad part of town.

Now I am ready to move on to what I call the "nuts and bolts" of my work, which is describing the various scenes, dialogue, and actions that take place in the story as they play out in my mind. I can write about three paragraphs before my "ailment" kicks in savagely, like a bad case of the stomach flu. I reread what I have written, and I am not satisfied. I start making changes, and I can't seem to stop. A word here, a phrase there, and just for good measure, maybe some dialogue that I consider sort of lame. I start thinking that maybe all my dialogue is lame. So I cut it all and start over. I continue to do this with each paragraph I write, striving for the perfection that I know will never come.

I can’t describe how I struggle with the endings, because there have never been any endings. Until now. At last, I finished a short story. It is called “A Monday Night At Stumpy Creek,” and can be found in my portfolio, should you care to look it over.

I am daring to hope that I might be on the road to recovery. Or maybe there is a magic force at work on this site, as I choose to believe. I have completed this, my second article in a little over an hour's time. Thank you, Writing,com.