A Perfect Ending

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
For whenpencilmeetspaper's final round of her contest.

Submitted: July 15, 2011

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Submitted: July 15, 2011




I tap my fingers nervously on the keyboard as I begin to write this, and my mind is racing to think of what to write about-

But, why do I write?

Well, I've never really thought about it, but now that I am thinking about it, I can't think of a good answer.

Maybe I'll write about it, because the makes perfect sense: write about why I write, right?

So here it goes.

I start out writing this like I do every other thing I write.

First, my mind starts racing of ideas of what to write about while I take in a deep breath and slowly, slowly, let it out. Then, my fingers race to keep up with my imagination, usually forgetting a few words, which makes the writing a little less great than what it was like in my head.

Why do I write?

Why do I write?

Why do I write?

How can I answer?

My mind races for an explanation.

But none of them are good enough.

Wait! I got it!

I write to fill the unwritten space.

I write to empty my imagination, so that it doesn't overflow and blow up.

I write to give the people that don't write something to read. But more than that, I write for myself.

That feeling I get, while I'm writing a story, and can feel it is going to lead nowhere, and then I end it with a perfect ending that is unimaginable, yet imaginable because I had the power to imagine it, is so great that no one could ever imagine it, except a writer.

When I write a story, it's like my own little world. Ibring the characters to life, and there's no one that looks like or could imagine what the character looks like, exactly like I do.

Pictures ruin the writing, because no artist or photographer could ever create a picture of a character exactly like the writer imagined it.

When I describe a scene in my writing, no one else will ever know exactly what it looks like, not even if they made a movie out of my writing. They can only guess.

That part of the story, when the twist takes place and no one ever saw it coming until it blows up in your face, that's my FAVORITE part.

There's always an urge inside of me to write, and when I finish a piece of writing, you'd think that the feeling would cease, but it doesn't. Instead, my mind just starts to race for a new idea.

When I find the perfect idea for a story, the first thing that I imagine is an image, or a sound, like tires crunching as they roll over a dirt road while the rain is pouring.

No writer is ever the same, they all have different takes on the world.

When I write, I can be anything. I live through my characters.

When I write, I can survive an alien invasion, become a vampire, save the world, fall in love, be a ghost, or live to be 500 years old.

Everyone has dreams at night, even non-writers, but writers take the extra step to turn those dreams into something more.

That rage you feel inside, after you've just completed a once again perfect piece of writing, and then your computer loses it, is unbelievable, because that writing, can never be written exactly the same once it's gone.

When I write, it's like I am the characters. I feel everything they feel.

When I write a description about the 'bright green, freshly-mowed grass', I can smell it. Not with my nose, but with my soul.

I would like to win this contest, but I probably won't and that's okay. My writing is not just to please others, it's to please myself as well, and I am very please with this writing. Even though it's really cheesy.

And now that this story is whelming down, I feel that is going to lead nowhere...

And yet I end it.

With a perfect ending.

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