Friends, I have a story for you--a story about a story, if you will. There I was, reading Plato like a person who reads Plato, and I was all "hey, divine, inspiration, that sounds like a fabulous way to write!" And it makes perfect sense. Every time I feel some emotion bubbling inside of me (so basically every Monday, Sunday and every day in between), I have to clear my head by getting those emotions on paper. So while I'm nowhere near lacking in divine inspiration--okay maybe just regular inspiration--every strike of inspiration causes me to abandon my first work and get all excited about this new story that's basically the same as the last, just with different characters.
This is problematic in many ways. First off, in this whole learning to be an adult world, I've discovered that while kids are congratulated for ideas (my "everything should be free!" proposal in fifth grade was considered "cute"), adults are congratulated for execution. Not the head chopping off kind (although sometimes they are), but the "hey, I was productive for this amount of time, and produced this tangible object that I can sell to consumerist society" kind. Everyone has ideas. Even gossiping about how Billy Bob and Joe got in some massive fight the other night consists of ideas, of theories. Not only do we all have ideas, but we also have grand schemes for ourselves: to be the next great American [insert profession of choice] here, and exhibit all the genius anyone in that field could ever hope to attain.
But it seems that starting a million and one grand ideas (okay, ideas) doesn't look all that impressive on a résumé. It looks flighty, like someone who isn't willing to commit to a relationship with their writing. And while I have assured my stories that it's not them, it's me that's the problem, it doesn't encourage them any more. They all just kinda sit there, un-finished, giving me that expectant look that stories tend to give. It's gotten to the point where I can't venture into the Google Docs world because I'll see so many docs named "at this point, I'll never finish a story," or "a story that you can pin me down to the floor if I don't finish!" or "this is the inspiration above all inspiration, I just know it" (that last one hasn't been created yet, but you just wait). I seem to justify all new creative endeavors by claiming "oh, this will just be a short story." Then I go write some daring looking outlines and start hating my life.
So begins the new venture into the story writing world, but I give you all permission to slap me if I don't finish a story. This one is a character study whose title is still a work in progress (translation: I suck at coming up with titles, help meeeeeeeeeeee). It's about four friends, each in her early 30's, who met in college. Miranda is an academic who lived a comfortable life with her husband and kids, but she's at a loss as to how to continue her routine once her husband leaves. Kristen is a former supermodel whose career expires due to age, and she must re-evaluate her life. Serena is a prostitute who stumbles across deeper love and doesn't know how to manage it, and Leisha is a publisher who has spent her whole life in one place, but must move to a city due to a transfer at work. The friends were scattered post-graduation, but must come together and feel out the dynamic they created in college, as well as their differences.
So. Now that I've told y'all about this story, I have two requests: 1) I need a name for this thing. I'll give you chocolate and shiny things if you help me. You can even text me at five A.M. with suggestions and I won't rip your head off (much), and 2) if you ask me what my current writing project is and my answer doesn't match up with the plot I just summarized here, slap me. Seriously. Do it.
Glad we had this talk.