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Hey I'm new here... :)
Hello everyone! I'm new to the forums. I checked a few other posts and saw that many people have written how they started writing, so I'm going to do the same.
When I was five years old, I played through an old Nintendo video game that I considered to be most enjoyable. And while I found every second of the game breathtaking, once I finished it, I couldn’t, as young as I was, quite accept it to be over. There was just so much that had to be told about the main character and the plot yet! So in desperation, I asked my parents to tell me the rest of that wonderful story about a little boy adventuring through ancient Greece, encountering hordes of frightening monsters and other mythological beings, which seemed to permanently settle in my mind as something most amazing and incredible in this world. My mother told me she could not finish the story. I will remember that moment for the rest of my life. The hardest thing a child must one day realize is that not all of his wishes can be fulfilled. And it was precisely in that moment that I realized that I would never hear anything more about that courageous boy, or those beings that could now only live in my dreams. A few years passed and I had, of course, forgotten all about that game that had once filled me with happiness and inspiration. I discovered that there were many more stories, characters and beings whose worlds I could enter and explore, and I started reading when I was very young, about the age of six. However, every time I finished a book, I would get the same sense of uneasiness and great irritation that the story was over. I desperately wanted to find out more. I wanted to know details about characters and places, which were barely mentioned in the book. Then one morning, I woke up from the greatest dream I had ever had. I dreamt the little Greek boy from the video game I had almost forgotten. He was lost in a huge stone keep surrounded by snow, fighting his way out. After waking up, I grabbed a piece of paper by reflex and wrote down everything I dreamt the night before. The feeling was absolutely amazing. I felt as though a huge rock boulder slid of my lungs and I could finally breathe. But there was more to write! I took another pencil and started writing without thinking, the words just flowing from the sharp tip to the piece of white paper. It was incredible. Every word was a discovery! I could not stop until lunchtime when my mother came into my room to see why I hadn’t come out all morning. I can still recall the look on her face when she saw me writing. It was an expression of utter astonishment (for I had never shown any interest in doing writing exercises, a fact which haunted her for a long time then). I had at least three sheets of paper filled with my childish handwriting, my letters written unevenly. My hand hurt so much that I thought it was going to explode. Since that day, I have attempted to write numerous stories. Never had I planned them to be short, perhaps because my love for detail that seemed to lack in every story I have read so far. However, every time I would take a pen and start the actual writing (which I did almost every other day), I would suddenly be overcome by a sense of panic and tiredness that did not allow me to write any further. I felt that there was no point in starting something I will most probably never finish. And so, until this day, I have not written one whole story, even though I’ve started to write dozens. I would have to say that I feel that I never truly expressed myself in the way that I wished to. That is why I joined these forums. Maybe here I can get some help and tips to get my first novel written.
Nice to meet you all!
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"Art is a guarantee of sanity." - Louise Bourgeois
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