Originality

As I snuggle into my blanket on the couch watching my puppy pace from one corner of the room and back again (don't ask for I do not even understand), I suddenly find myself thinking about originality. I've been told that my story ideas are original (and of course I've heard the "Wow, that's cheesy and oh so overdone" critique too). But what does that even mean? What's really original? Lately, I feel as if every story has been done before. I'm pretty sure someone has even posted something on this before as well.

So...what's the point? Why write? I'm not creating anything spectacularly new. I've been pondering this question. Maybe, as my dear friend suggested despondently, I'm not cut out to be a writer. And a big part of me agrees. Yet, tonight I've found my answer. I'm not a writer, I'm a reader. Every story I think of are actually stories I desperately want to read. If someone wrote it for me, I'd be just as happy and not feel any need to write it. I write so that I can eventually read the story.

Maybe that's one of the reasons I'm so protective of my writing. Some of my friends have asked to read them, yet, I say no all the time. I do not write for others, solely for myself. That does not make it any easier to write though. I am my worst critic and I edit before I even write things down. Maybe I should free-write as though I am in a creative writing course?

In my own form of writing therapy, I have given myself tasks. This blog is one and writing at least a chapter a week in any story is another. I have always felt encouraged by my close friend L and I will take her advice and add another task. This will most likely change the style of this blog but I will find a way to write based on something meaningful to me. Time to go through some books.

As I prepare to publish this post, Fei has finally stopped wandering and has settled on the opposite couch with a bone hanging from the side of his mouth. Utterly adorable. Especially since he is flat on his back passed out.