Sunday, January 29, 2012


I am having a really hard time with my creative non-fiction.

Much harder than I thought.

After all, like I said, that's what I write here.

I write stories about myself and my life.

The thoughts that run through my head and the events taking place around me.

I write stories, I tell tales, but many of them are true. They are my stories.

So I have no idea why this is proving to be so difficult.

I have read examples of creative non-fiction. I have gotten some direction. I have sat and stewed and procrastinated for almost two weeks. And yet I still have nothing. Nothing.

I finally had a talking-to with myself last night, trying to kick my butt into gear.

So today I sat down, determined to write something, anything, that I could show to my tutor.

And I wrote. I did.

I stayed on the topic I had chosen, and I wrote. Not the required amount, but I wrote. The only problem was, as the story began to take shape , I realized that it had turned away from being my story. It had turned into someone else's story. This someone shared many of my characteristics and thoughts and feelings, but not enough to be considered a non-fiction tale.

This is where I'm stumped. Everything that is coming out of me is fiction. I am filled with a desire to tell other people's stories, not my own.

I think part of it stems from this belief that, "My life isn't that interesting. It's not interesting enough to be able to fill 4-6 pages."

I think I am also unaccustomed to sitting down because I have to write. Not write anything, but write about myself.

I don't know that I've ever had to do that before.

To create a story, one with a beginning, middle, and end, all about me.

I tell these stories about myself here on my blog, in a couple hundred words. I sit down and the stories just flow out of me, unplanned.

This, well, I just don't know where to start.

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