Saturday, June 12, 2004
Rediscovering
I'm getting close to one month into my summer vacation. Maybe it's not healthy to think of it that way because it reminds me of how much has gone by and how fast the rest will, too. But that's not the point at all. A month's worth of much more R & R than normal is definitely starting to take its effect. Although the residual effects of long term sleep-deprivation and hyperstress like irritability, anxiety, and unnecessary stress still plague me, I'm finally starting to feel the difference.
For the past couple days, I've been having these sudden short-lived flashes where I relapse into thinking about writing (for fun). Gosh, what a thing of the past. I've also begun to rethink about the book I undertook to write last summer. Finally tonight, after a sort of lethargic day (although it was my sister's high school graduation day--yay sis!), these flashes burst through the figment of my imagination and became a part of my reality.
Last summer, relatively rested, relaxed, and inspired, I decided to undertake a summer project of writing a book. I wanted to chronicle the 21st century lives of American teens as seen through our own eyes. Enough had been written about teens by "experts" who are 30 years out of touch, so I figured, if I ever wanted to take a dabble at this, now (then) was the time. Still freshly entrenched in the high school culture of MTV, crowded hallways, and the insane pressures to do your best NOW for the sake of your future, I wanted to reflect upon the lives of today's teens through personal stories, exposes, and creative pieces.
Finally, something I loved doing. Finally, something that didn't take away from me, but only nurtured my soul. Finally, something I believed in. Finally a chance to capture my real voice.
So, last summer I set out on a keyboard typing spree. I wrote about 40 pages on one megasized file, and it felt like I was actually accomplishing something. I even set a goal for myself to finish the first draft of my book by the time I turn 19. I figured that if I wrote 40 pages in two and a half months, I could have a big, fat, 200-something page draft within nine months. I guess that back then I didn't realize how much my first year at college would disturb the dust of my life that had so peacefully settled over the summer. College ravaged the fabric of my life and unapologetically came in between me an all my plans.
Fast forward to nine months later. Happy birthday to Amir, 19 years old. My first year was going to be over in 4 days. Thank goodness it was almost over, but I was nowhere near the goal I set myself with regard to the book. I struggled during those nine months, and only managed to produce an incoherent, meager rant of 25 pages. I was so frustrated and overwhelmed (overworked) in school that I barely wrote 5 pages in the last three months, and the majority of them were pasted out of my blog entries. I didn't touch the file during the month of May, and up till the last couple days I was starting to accept the fact that this book will just be another incomplete mission, dream deferred, failure.
But tonight, around 11:30pm, I sat down in front my computer turned on some music, opened the file, and began to write. It was wonderful. I wrote three pages of something I finally feel decent about--decent draft quality, and it fits in with my theme pretty well. I had so much fun. The uninspired people reading this might find this really stupid and cliche, but it felt so great, and I feel so fulfilled. And honestly, I haven't felt this way in SUCH a long time. It was like rekindling flame that went out long ago, and we all know all the symbolisms about light versus dark (and no, I'm not talking about the ones about skin color), so 'nuff said.
No, I know. I'm not going to finish this book quickly. I'm not going to find a publisher overnight. But every day like this gets me a little bit closer to that dream.
For the past couple days, I've been having these sudden short-lived flashes where I relapse into thinking about writing (for fun). Gosh, what a thing of the past. I've also begun to rethink about the book I undertook to write last summer. Finally tonight, after a sort of lethargic day (although it was my sister's high school graduation day--yay sis!), these flashes burst through the figment of my imagination and became a part of my reality.
Last summer, relatively rested, relaxed, and inspired, I decided to undertake a summer project of writing a book. I wanted to chronicle the 21st century lives of American teens as seen through our own eyes. Enough had been written about teens by "experts" who are 30 years out of touch, so I figured, if I ever wanted to take a dabble at this, now (then) was the time. Still freshly entrenched in the high school culture of MTV, crowded hallways, and the insane pressures to do your best NOW for the sake of your future, I wanted to reflect upon the lives of today's teens through personal stories, exposes, and creative pieces.
Finally, something I loved doing. Finally, something that didn't take away from me, but only nurtured my soul. Finally, something I believed in. Finally a chance to capture my real voice.
So, last summer I set out on a keyboard typing spree. I wrote about 40 pages on one megasized file, and it felt like I was actually accomplishing something. I even set a goal for myself to finish the first draft of my book by the time I turn 19. I figured that if I wrote 40 pages in two and a half months, I could have a big, fat, 200-something page draft within nine months. I guess that back then I didn't realize how much my first year at college would disturb the dust of my life that had so peacefully settled over the summer. College ravaged the fabric of my life and unapologetically came in between me an all my plans.
Fast forward to nine months later. Happy birthday to Amir, 19 years old. My first year was going to be over in 4 days. Thank goodness it was almost over, but I was nowhere near the goal I set myself with regard to the book. I struggled during those nine months, and only managed to produce an incoherent, meager rant of 25 pages. I was so frustrated and overwhelmed (overworked) in school that I barely wrote 5 pages in the last three months, and the majority of them were pasted out of my blog entries. I didn't touch the file during the month of May, and up till the last couple days I was starting to accept the fact that this book will just be another incomplete mission, dream deferred, failure.
But tonight, around 11:30pm, I sat down in front my computer turned on some music, opened the file, and began to write. It was wonderful. I wrote three pages of something I finally feel decent about--decent draft quality, and it fits in with my theme pretty well. I had so much fun. The uninspired people reading this might find this really stupid and cliche, but it felt so great, and I feel so fulfilled. And honestly, I haven't felt this way in SUCH a long time. It was like rekindling flame that went out long ago, and we all know all the symbolisms about light versus dark (and no, I'm not talking about the ones about skin color), so 'nuff said.
No, I know. I'm not going to finish this book quickly. I'm not going to find a publisher overnight. But every day like this gets me a little bit closer to that dream.
