As I start to lose my mind to this summer - not in a literal sense, and even metaphorically I'm exagerating slightly - I find myself writing a lot of fiction. However, as I've suggested to some people - and said to others outright - this fiction is more than just stories I'm making up. It's closer to say that I'm bending the truth, manipulating stories I've been told and days I've lived through to create a whole story out of it.
I told someone outright yesterday: the last few things I've written have had someone representative of you in them. And before he could say anything else: You just have a very interesting life. He argues that it's been filled with the wrong sorts of adventures. I disagree - he's led a life more interesting than anyone else I know, and the less people know about the stuff he doesn't tell everyone, the greater his life seems. That is manipulation of the truth; he said he never lies, but he keeps the truth to himself a lot, too. That's fine... though it does require him to have to read all these things before I show anyone else, because he's told me more than he's told a lot of people.
So, this is my explanation about what I've been writing. It is still fiction; the characters are made up, and though they bare an awful lot of resemblance to people in real life, myself included - and I'll get back to you on that one in a while - they are still fictional. They've done things that haven't happened, both before and during the narrative of the stories, and they have independant thoughts that I have to control to some degree to purposely prevent creating carbon copies of myself and my friends.
Now, there is a very good reason for me writing these stories; firstly, if I'm not in them, there's no point. That's not an ego thing, that's pure, unalterable fact, because of the secondly: I write these stories to make sense of something in my head, in my heart, in my dreams, or in the lives of other people around me. If I'm not in them, then I'd just be writing about my friends, a lot, and I'd only get from that exactly what I make up, with nothing to bounce off them from within my own mind-set. A character similar to me is required to learn things about a character similar to them. A character similar to me is also required to get through some of the darker things in my head, in my nightmares, so that I can make sense of my life and put a positive spin on things that happen.
The third reason for writing these stories: I need the practice. Every writer, once they start writing, is learning until the day they stop. Usually when they're dead, because even those who give up are learning, even if they're not putting it into practice. So, even if these stories never seen the light of day, even if only one person reads them and forbids them, I'll have gotten my practice.
Which brings me to the fourth reason: the one person who has to read them. I'm not writing them for him, per sae, but the messages in them are things that I should be telling him, but that I can't bring myself to, for reasons of embarassment, shame and common sense - if I told him some of the stuff I couldn't help but dream up, I'd evidentally go the wrong way about it and seem absolutely crazy, and in the very bad Is-He-Going-To-Do-Something-Stupid kind of crazy. So, I have a character live through these things so that I don't have to. I have my character explain these things to his character and, even though it's speculation and fiction, I have his character respond. (side note: I was actually right about a response I'd get to doing something!) So I write these stories to explain in a full a way as possible (a) what's wrong and (b) why he shouldn't worry. It's a very long winded way of doing it, I know, but if I succeed in making him not worry, then it's worth it.
Fifth reason? Well, that's based on the third and fourth reasons. The practice comes in handy to create good stories, while the friend who has to approve of them or they get locked away. Say both of those reasons turn out positive - then the fifth reason comes into play: publication. Now, they won't be the first thing I'll attempt to get published. I actually had a dream in that I was published. Admittedly, I also died very young in this dream. That's aside the point. In the dream, two of my friends were left to publish whatever of mine they saw fit, and obviously whatever the publisher would actually put into print, and these stories - so full of my doubts, my fears, my thoughts, and their lives - are what they choose when nothing else that's left fits.
Sixth reason, based on the fifth: to give back to my friends what they gave to me. Not literally, because they didn't give me a physical object in this case. These two friends gave me my life back when I thought I'd just go insane, and just by being there every single day, even when none of us had to be there (in the college). And I've seen and heard the things they've been through, and I've shared with them some of the things from my life, and in the end, by the very end, I knew that if I could ever do something to make their lives a little bit better, to give them the chance to do the one thing they want to do before the one time, then I'd do my best to help them along the way to getting it.
Seventh reason for writing these stories: I enjoyed it. Let's be honest, unless you're getting paid an awful lot of money, or something means too much to you to stop, you should enjoy the whole writing experience. Actually, I didn't enjoy all of it. I had to stop writing at various points because it got too hard - emotionally - to write, because, well... okay, there was the repeated suicide of one of my characters. Long story... that one still has to be read.
So, I suppose... I suppose that's it. Until I write another mad story (side note: coming soon!). I'll actually be starting one tomorrow morning, and hoping to finish it within a couple of weeks. Dignity baby! Once that's done, I'll either be writing another book, based on a comment I left on Facebook (side note: I know, I'm a strange person - Dignity is based on a status update someone else left!) or I'll be writing one based on my own experience of bullying, with a few changes thrown in there. Thankfully, I'm remembering a few of the details of my secondary school life a little bit better now. That's also a downside: secondary school sucked!
These are my explantions into mad fiction, ladies and gentlemen. If you choose to ignore them and start insulting me, please do so to my face so I know who to stop talking to. What I've told you is the truth, pure and simple, and unless I'm forgetting something, I'm not hiding anything from you. And if you've read this far and you like that I've explained things, and you believe what I've told you: thank you, and God bless (if you're not a believer, just take that as a coloquilism to 1 billion people in the world and not an attempt to convert or to be rude). And with that closed bracket, I bid you adieu.