I’ve been working on a short story for a university class, and what began as something difficult became something difficult but rewarding.
I’ve had my job at a bookstore for about a month (honestly, that’s a complete stab in the dark; time currently does not exist and is just a wobbly concept, like a giant jelly) and it’s hard balancing uni, writing for leisure, and work. This job is 9-5, while in the past I’ve always had jobs that were only a morning or an afternoon, leaving me with a lot of free time to get things done. (Welcome to the real world, Sarah. Enjoy your stay.) Hence why I’m blogging on a Saturday and not the usual Friday. I think I’m going to just post when I can because Fridays aren’t always going to happen.
The point is, the first few weeks of this uni class were difficult. It’s just the one unit, as the class goes over Christmas, and it’s on writing short fiction. Every time I opened a word document I would sit there and write a sentence, knowing it was awful as I was writing it.
So I did something I don’t normally do. I pulled out a notebook and a pen and I let myself write all the things. Some were prayers, for guidance and creativity and that my words would be the right ones. Others were story ideas, others were opening lines or closing lines or just something I could add to the story.
The overall message of what I wrote was simple, however:
I am looking for the light.
(I wrote a blog post where I used similar wording on a day where everything was happening and nothing was happening. You can read that here.)
I also felt that God told me to keep writing until I had an answer. Not the answer (yikes that could take years to find) but an answer. So I kept writing, and I found one.
My story is about a young woman who deals with grief after the death of her Gran and contemplates the freedom she had when she was a child compared to the restrictions she lives under as an adult. She’s looking for the light, she’s looking to feel lighter. Which are sentiments I’ve felt for a lot of this year as I’ve dealt with different, unexpected circumstances.
As I said, still difficult but now rewarding.
It made me realise how much of myself is in everything I write, and how I want my writing to be my reflection. It made me realise how unashamed I want to be of my writing if I am true to myself with my words, and true to God.
I have stories in me because I’m a person who’s lived. It doesn’t matter for how long; they’re there, and they’re real and they’re important to me.
I have 500 words to go of my short story. I have a destination, and I have a way of getting there. I have an answer, and I will keep looking for more.