A Story Untold
The blank sheet of loose-leaf paper stared longingly at me, and I at it. I wanted nothing more than for my pen to glide across its ocean-blue lines with ease, leaving behind a trail of words that told a story of who I was, a memoir. My life had never been anything short of a Lifetime Channel drama. How could someone with such a story to tell, be left speechless in the presence of a pen and paper? Writer’s block, I think they called it; I had come down with a severe case of it.
I began digging into a file of memories, conjuring key moments in my life that could possibly amount to a story worth telling. A few things came to mind: my first time on a plane, the time I learned to ride a bike, perhaps a beloved pet. Somehow, the simplicity of these anecdotes struck me as inadequate. The subjects were mediocre and presented no literary challenge for neither me, nor the person who would be reading it. It would take no more than half an …show more content…
I was amazed at how quickly my pen began to sail across my paper, marking it with lines and loops that formed a consolidated tale unlike any I had written before. I began to write about how a simple assignment, a memoir, had not only given me a completely different outlook on the life I was living, but also made me realize that I was in a desperate need of a change. This particular story dove deep into my puddle of pity and unraveled the truth about who I really was. I had once engraved all I knew to be true about myself in sand, sand that had been kissed by waves of truth and washed away. I had self-analyzed and rethought everything I had once believed to be true about myself in less than 24 hours. To me, that was a story in itself. Of all the “coming of age” stories I had ever been told, as well as all the stories I had told myself, never did I imagine that mine would sound so facile. However, it was the truth. I found myself the day I was asked to write a
The blank sheet of loose-leaf paper stared longingly at me, and I at it. I wanted nothing more than for my pen to glide across its ocean-blue lines with ease, leaving behind a trail of words that told a story of who I was, a memoir. My life had never been anything short of a Lifetime Channel drama. How could someone with such a story to tell, be left speechless in the presence of a pen and paper? Writer’s block, I think they called it; I had come down with a severe case of it.
I began digging into a file of memories, conjuring key moments in my life that could possibly amount to a story worth telling. A few things came to mind: my first time on a plane, the time I learned to ride a bike, perhaps a beloved pet. Somehow, the simplicity of these anecdotes struck me as inadequate. The subjects were mediocre and presented no literary challenge for neither me, nor the person who would be reading it. It would take no more than half an …show more content…
I was amazed at how quickly my pen began to sail across my paper, marking it with lines and loops that formed a consolidated tale unlike any I had written before. I began to write about how a simple assignment, a memoir, had not only given me a completely different outlook on the life I was living, but also made me realize that I was in a desperate need of a change. This particular story dove deep into my puddle of pity and unraveled the truth about who I really was. I had once engraved all I knew to be true about myself in sand, sand that had been kissed by waves of truth and washed away. I had self-analyzed and rethought everything I had once believed to be true about myself in less than 24 hours. To me, that was a story in itself. Of all the “coming of age” stories I had ever been told, as well as all the stories I had told myself, never did I imagine that mine would sound so facile. However, it was the truth. I found myself the day I was asked to write a