All the blogs I've read lately by people i know and admire are stories. These stories are from yesterday or a 1,000 yesterdays ago, but they all have one thing in common--they are compelling. I want to read their story to its very end and I wonder; is it because they are good writers or because they have an interesting story to tell that makes me want to read it so much?
I envy these people for the sheer fact that I want to read their stories. What I wouldn't give to write a compelling story. Alas, all the stories I have to tell are not out of the ordinary, and my writing is not unusual either.
I wrote a story once in 8th grade. It was called, "The Snow Prince and the Seven Stupid Maidens." Don't ask me why I decided to write a story based on the fairytale. Maybe it was because I secretly hated the real Snow White, with all of her shrill singing and her constant efforts to please men; however, I dearly wanted to write in a character with more backbone. Anyway--my teacher told me that she could hear my "voice" in that story. I'm not sure if she was just pumping up the ego of a little 8th grader, but maybe she heard me in my story.
I've thought about finishing that story, but yet another teacher--college this time--said that my story must be worth something to everyone else. "What makes your story unique and worth reading," he said. Well, what makes that story different? Between Gregory Maguire and Robin McKinley, there's no room for another re-fairytale. Right?
For now, they're right--I have no unique stories to share. I'm just one of millions of people who do the same thing every day, only slightly different. In the mean time, I must subject my unknown audience to the woefully ordinary life of me.