Stuff I’ve Written: Live Your Dreams (part 1)

In the past I’ve shared some of what I’ve written here.  It may be good, it may be terrible, but I need to get it out into the world.  If you like what you read, let me know.  I’ll be posting the stories in installments, and I will eventually put up a pdf of the full story.

 

Live Your Dreams

 

The scariest thing in the world for any creator is the blank page. Staring back at you, waiting for you to fill it. You have to fill that space with your thoughts, your emotions, your very essence.  To fill that space you need to expose the deepest, darkest part of yourself, things you would never dream to share, and put them out for everyone to see.

 

John Miller dreams of being a writer.

 

John sits at his desk, leaning back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.  A blank notebook open in front of him.  He had stopped trying to write on the computer. He said the monitor was hurting his eyes. Secretly, he felt the flashing cursor on the screen was mocking him.  This was where he placed himself everyday, forcing himself to squeeze blood from a stone. This had become less of a hobby and more an S&M session. The only thing missing was a leather clad women yelling at him.

 

“I wonder if I should get Stephanie the outfit and riding crop, I might get more work done” John said to himself with a laugh.  He had been at it for 45 minutes tonight, staring at the blank piece of paper, trying to resist the urge to pull up Facebook on his phone. His resistance was failing.

 

“I’ll do better tomorrow. I just need to unwind after my shitty day at work. My stress levels are too high tonight. Let me rest and recharge tonight and I’ll dive into it tomorrow.” John muttered to himself as he picked up his phone. “All the more reason to get out of this room, I’m starting to talk to myself.”  Leaning forward in his chair, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

 

“There is the artist hard at work on his latest masterpiece.” A female voice said from behind him. It was his wife Stephanie, home from work.  She had been working second shift all this month, so John had taken the evenings when he was home alone to work on his writing. Stephanie had been urging him to write more since she discovered his Creative Writing notebook from college. “Are you done for the night? Already?”

 

“Yes, I’m too tired to focus on anything right now” He got up out of the chair and met her in the hallway.

 

“You gonna join me on the couch? The Simpsons starts in 10 minutes.” Stephanie had already changed into her sweatpants, her blonde hair in a ponytail.

 

“How long have you been home?” He asked, suddenly embarrassed.

 

“Long enough to hear you making excuses. It’s okay, come join me.”  She said with a slight teasing smile, leading him to the other room.  “I grabbed a pizza on the way home.”

 

John wanted nothing more than to just collapse on the couch with her and veg out in front of the TV until it was time for bed. Heck, it’s the new American Dream: an HDTV and a comfy couch. Even better if you can share it with a beautiful woman like Stephanie.  She had supported him through so much, always pushing him to follow his dreams and to not accept his position as another cube drone. Always telling him that his writing wasn’t something he should hide, he should share it with the world.  For the last 2 months he had been trying to get this story started. What did he have to show for his hard work and frustration? The spare bedroom was now his “study” and he had a very nice leather bound notebook full of doodles.  His self esteem dipped every night when he gave up still no closer to actually finishing anything.

 

He plopped on the couch beside her, grabbed a slice of pizza and was quickly entranced by the bright and shiny colors on the TV.

 

“Are you in there? Or should I get you a bedpan and a drool bib?” Stephanie woke him out of his shame spiral.

 

“Yes, I’m here, just…” John flatly replied.

 

“Just…? Just what? You kind of trailed off there. Tell me what’s going on in there.” She sat up and turned to face him.

 

“Am I that obvious?”

 

“Well, it’s not just you. It’s the giant flashing neon sign behind you as well.”  She was teasing him, but there was truth behind it. He couldn’t hide his feelings from her, she knew him too well.  Friends always said they must’ve been able to read each other’s minds.

 

“I feel like a failure. I go in there waiting for lightning to strike and I don’t even get a tiny spark. The more I think I about it the more I feel what ideas I do have are slipping away.” He confessed to her.

 

“Oh honey, you aren’t just going to magically make a masterpiece come out in one night. It’s a long hard process. Get in there and focus on keeping the pencil moving. That was what my professor in college always said ‘Keep the pencil moving and let the story form itself.’ It doesn’t matter if the story isn’t good right now. You have the talent to make it good.”

 

“So you’re saying I have a talent for polishing turds?” He said with a small smile forming and some of the light returning to his eyes.

 

“Haha, you think you’re so funny.” She stuck her tongue out at him. She knew that he was masking his insecurities with humour, but it was still good to see him smiling. “You’re always so hard on yourself, I believe in you.”

 

“Thank you for being my support and kicking me in the butt when I need it.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Now if you really want to have fun with that tongue of yours..”
“Oh really now, what did you have in mind…” She smiled a mischievous smile and kissed him again.

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