One thing that I really like that I do is write. I’ve always loved good stories and especially the ones that come out of my own head. I really haven’t written much creatively outside of school assignments, but there were LOTS of those. And it’s something I think about doing a lot. I frequently get original scenes and/or characters stuck in my head. Sometimes I forget them, sometimes, the good ones I hope, stick with me. For the last month or so I’ve been thinking about a new idea for what might be an epic first novel. But I’m not ready to talk that one yet. Instead I wanted to get some of your e-pinions about an older project. It’s one that is precious to me.
I don’t often talk about my creative writing ideas often for two reasons. 1) They are tender, almost like an open wound. A bleeding heart, something like that. I’m afraid it will hurt to place any pressure/criticism on them. 2) I am proud, and I worry about people stealing my brilliance out from under me.
But I have two reasons for sharing this now. 1) I understand the principle of constructive criticism. Like cauterizing a wound, or removing scar tissue, ideas sometimes require painful treatment in order to develop properly. 2) I am stuck. I think I am mostly stuck by fear of the time commitment that is inherently required by this project and fear of not being a brilliant as I hope (I’m not sure which is a wrose sign of my character).
The project is a novel, a family novel—that is the genre I like to think of it fitting into. Something I would read to my children, and enjoy reading myself. Incidentally Disney University taught me this is what Walt wanted in his park when he designed Disneyland: a place he could enjoy as much as his 8 year old daughter. If he can do it so can I.
It is based on a fairy/folk tale that I read in a book soon after coming home from my mission. (Thanks Grandma!) The story has stayed with me very clearly since then. I have around 40 pages written. I am sharing with you the second chapter, which I think gives a good flavor for what the rest of it is like, and introduces the young versions of most of the most important characters.
Say what you will. I am tough, and you can’t see me cry. I don’t care one bit to hear about the typos. Tell me how it makes you feel.
So if you have a few more minutes to humor me, let me try to humor you:
The Three Princes of Serendip: Chapter Two, genetic-heredity-and-custard