My Re-Re-Entry into Writing
My Medium Blog is Almost Accidental
As things go, I am not a writer. I much prefer to read and edit others’ work; writing all by myself is not something I am naturally gravitated to. I have tried writing twice before and given up both times, making this blog my re-re-entry into writing.
The first time I tried to write was way back in sixth grade when I discovered the Oz series. I was enamored by the magical world built by L. Frank Baum and had a childish desire to create one of my own. I’d also read Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, both of which I plagiarized to great extents in my own story. I have since then lost the notebook I scribbled so much text into, but I still have some low-resolution photos of the pages with me, so I can tell you how the plot went.
It started with a poor girl named Julia living in a desert whose house got swept away by a tsunami, never mind how that is even possible. She was inside when this happened but somehow didn’t notice the building being uprooted and swept away. She did feel a slight bobbing, but this only served to put her to sleep. Sometime during the night, the waves deposited her onto a lush field. The following day, Julia woke up to find that she didn’t recognize where she was because she was used to seeing sand around her house, not grass. Being the carefree girl she was, she decided to explore the new land with her dog, Tobo. Luckily, she didn’t have to go far: right next to the house was a sign directing all people to follow the gold-brick road to Orma, the queen. There was also a stick lying down next to the sign. Julia picked it up and somehow got to know that it was a wand. She then decided to follow the sign’s advice and immediately packed a picnic basket for the way. I remember writing at length about the basket’s contents, which were all my favorite foods.
This part is actually rather entertaining to read: I was trying desperately to show that Julia was poor by limiting what was in her pantry, but I also didn’t want to miss a chance to mention all the delicious dishes I liked in my book. It led to this comedic routine where she finished packing the basket and went outside only to find some new ingredient right outside her door, necessitating her to go and repack her picnic to include all the new items available to her. At first, it was small stuff like strawberries or oranges, but it got more ridiculous by the page, the final straw being a cow showing up at her doorstep begging to be milked since no fantasy story would be complete without talking animals. After Julia somehow processed this milk into all possible and some impossible dairy products (she managed to make chocolate milk WITHOUT ANY CHOCOLATE), she finally set on the long journey to the queen, accompanied by the gargantuan picnic basket and Boto, whose name changed without warning sometime during this insanity.
The rest of what is written is hard to read, so I’ll summarize it: Julia finds a fishing rod but can’t carry it because it is too heavy and leaves it be. She meets a tiger, casts a kindness spell on it like a pro, and they become friends. The fishing rod appears again, only to be broken by Bobo. Julia and co. trespass into a giant’s home and promptly get sucked into a computer. Toto is separated from the other two; a virtual cannon starts firing virtual fireballs at them, and… well, that’s all I have. The photos stop at this point, though I can’t imagine the remaining bits were anything worth keeping.
After this disastrous first attempt, I did not touch writing for two years. The second time I picked it up was in 8th grade. Again, it was because I had read a book I really, really liked and wanted to create something like it. By this time, I had learned basic storytelling and could string together a bland short story without continuity errors. I was also obsessed with Raven from Teen Titans and The Hunger Games, and this teenage angst showed up heavily in my manuscript. I had decided to write on loose A4 sheets stapled together for reasons I cannot fathom right now, the result of which is that I have no record whatsoever of what I wrote back then due to their poor durability.
The gist of the story was about a group of six friends who get caught up in magical shenanigans and end up having to travel through 3 different dimensions to fulfill a prophecy or something. I remember a grandma character I killed off near the beginning for that juicy angst and how I spent way too long describing each person’s wands. I also remember that I was again guilty of filling up pages and pages with food imagery, this time in the guise of explaining the festivals of the universe. Overall, it wasn’t much better than my first attempt, and in many ways, it was even cringier.
This brings us to the present. After two failed attempts, you may wonder why I would bother trying, especially since most of these are written Monday night, just before my Tuesday morning publishing time, including this one. Truthfully, it’s quite a coincidence.
Back in January, my mental health wasn’t at its peak: I used to skip several meals, stay in bed for hours after waking up, have a bath near midnight, and generally not take care of myself, partly since I was living alone for a bit. Things improved in February when my parents came, but I still had many emotions and thoughts I wanted to share but couldn’t. When I picked up digital art, my situation improved a lot: I finally had an outlet to focus my mental energy. Honestly, I would never have started writing on Medium were it not for a Quora answer I saw in 11th grade from Charissa Enget talking about how she opened a Medium account to share her thoughts and writings. The app’s name stuck in my subconscious brain; it came up when I wondered whether I should do something else other than art too. I had an idea about what to write, so I did. And I continued, once weekly as webcomics do. In all likelihood, if I did not have the name of a publishing platform in my mind at that time, I would never have begun writing. A single line in a Quora answer from years back is the main reason I am even typing this right now.
Writing has provided me with a way to shout out all the teeming thoughts in my brain, to allow them to be communicated to someone who listens. That is all I need from my writing: just a single reader will do. My greatest achievement would be when I would have written enough that people can see their own connections across all my work, maybe even something I didn’t see. I have so much left to share; I don’t think I’ll be stopping this soon, if ever. Did you know that someone online went and found an Earth-reproducible recipe for the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, the famous alcoholic beverage from Hitchhiker’s Guide that feels like having your brain smashed out by a lemon slice wrapped around a large gold brick? Did you know someone once wrote an article about a minor celebrity sidestepping a puddle? This is just the tip of the iceberg that is this vast, weird, wonderful world of ours. Hopefully, I’ll be able to show you something new in it, however small; we can both learn along the way.
As it goes, it seems that writing has grown on me. Researching the topic, verifying the facts, checking image licenses, and sometimes even editing photos and making illustrations is undoubtedly tiring; however, I cannot deny that the feeling of having someone enjoy what I spent so much effort on is phenomenal. So thank you, dear reader, for doing just that. Thank you for listening to the rough, strange writing of a sleep-deprived, overworked college student about almost anything under and beyond the sun. It means far, far more than you would think.
