It was not until recently that I learned that reading a story can be an insanely personal experience. For me, writing has been where the personal experience begins. For all the story ideas that I generate each month, only one of them usually come to any fruition, and even then, most of those stories don't make it past a couple of pages' worth of a draft on my computer.
I can only write what interests me. As great as some ideas are to me, my attention span to them usually fades before I can make enough progress to consider them for completion. The stories that fascinate me the most, the stories that I wish I could tell everyday, are the ones that I experience: my daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly life. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to tell these stories simply because I don't believe they are fascinating to anyone but me (obviously, in memoir form, they might be more worthwhile).
Still, given how things have been going for me lately, I'm starting to wonder if I can formulate short stories out of a few happenings in my life. I. Just. Don't. Know.
Out.
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