Stranger When Fiction

The most important part of yesterday was winning the Whining Stranger's writing contest. I'm not going to rehash yesterday's post here, if you didn't read it, you can go do so now. I'll wait . . . Okay. I mentioned yesterday that I'm insecure about my writing, and then realized how bizarre that sounded, considering you are reading it on my blog which is basically me writing everyday and posting it where the entire world can see it. But here's the thing, I have no qualms about writing stuff that's my opinion or observation, etc. It's my fiction that I'm terrified to share. Somehow it's way, way more personal. In high school, I took Creative Writing - one of those half a year electives. The last thing I did in the class was write a short story that had been tumbling round in my head. Those were pre-computer days, so I actually wrote it out on paper with a pen(!!) and then did some editing and typed it up. Like everything I've ever written, I read it and re-read it and thought about it and edited it and got to the point where I was sick of it and figured it sucked, but it was as good as it was going to get. My teacher gave it an A (yay!) and asked me to see her after class. She wanted me to submit it to a magazine that published short stories, poems, etc. from high school kids. I think I mumbled something like "I'll think about it" and dashed out of the room. I was horrified. Makes no sense? The only way I can explain it would be, what if I said to you, "Boy, you really look great. I can tell you've dropped a few pounds, toned up, and all. You should pose naked for Playboy(or Playgirl). And be sure and send a copy to your mom." Publishing a story in a public place to me is that personal and private. My stories are more of my private me than my opinions and concerns, pet peeves and dearest loves. These things you all see, but the stories, that's the hidden part. I wonder if I could be a prolific writer. I don't know if anyone else does this (please let me know if you do), but at night when I can't sleep, I tell myself stories. I start with a scene in my head and I can hear it as clearly as if I were reading it aloud. I tell myself the story as it unfolds until I drift off, and the next night, I'll pick up at the last place I can remember, maybe refine a bit, and the story goes on. I've told myself literally (correct usage of the word) hundreds of stories over the years, some very short (one-nighters), some long enough to be a whole "real" book. But I don't know if I could share them, even if I had the patience and the time to write them all down in the day time. Every now and then I toy with putting them in chapters up on a blog, like PW has been doing with her Legends and the Janey Edition but that's awful scary. We'll see.