I’ve been procrastinating on writing “The Story” because I can’t write concisely nuanced enough yet to do it all justice. There’s an early scene codenamed “The Scene” that drives Trishna (right) and family three hours away to collect John (left). “The Scene,” and therefore “The Story,” would fall flat if I wrote it today. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll develop that skill. Loving the time until then is the only way to succeed.
Spoiler Warning Scale: Major (plot exploration)
Let’s explore the mechanical structure of “The Scene.”
By this point, John and Trishna had been friends online for years. They became inseparable friends, chatting or talking by phone as often as they can, learning every detail about each other. They were able to help each other go through high school being ostracized and unable to make friends with people in “real life.” Trishna had it easier. She was just picked on occasionally at school.
John moved to some town his last year of high school.
It was particularly rough for him, because not only was John new, and looked different, he also didn’t fit in with any other group. Bullies would find him and beat him up. He’d figure out places to hide, libraries, and sometimes sleep out in the forest when his bullies would be his foster parents. A few weeks before graduation, he drops into a party or maybe is invited, and he is ruthlessly assaulted by a classmate.
His foster parents don’t believe him.
Trishna and her family do, but can’t do much, being over three hours away. They try to help but John’s life spirals out of control in those few weeks and he, over the course of an evening, gets into an argument with his foster parents, is beaten and kicked out, is found by a group of bullies that are trying to protect that classmate, who beat him up some more. John ends up in rough shape.
A desperate call later and they pick him up.
That’s the scene as it plays endlessly in my head. I see glimpses of it when I’m on the bus going into the city, when I’m working, or when I’m about ready to go to bed. Just writing it down like this won’t help. It will always be in there until I can write it as a proper story. I’m getting there. It will still take years of constant effort applied to writing garbage, and slightly better material, before I can coax it out.
Loving the process is the only way.
It’s a beautiful burden to have. Succeeding means winning at everything in life. John and Trishna will get their story fully realized. I’ll get some degree of satisfactory living outside the grind that would inspire me to escape it in many waking moments. Writing something at this level of complexity that I can’t realize even today is risky.
Failing just means I haven’t tried hard enough, and it will only be unobtainable when I stop.
|Inspirations: Combatting the crazy desire to tell this story with the rational desire to have a steady career where life is humdrum and everything’s fine.|
|Related: Essays building “The Story.”|
|Photo: Taken nearly a year ago during a road trip nearly emulating the Lanchester’s voyage to pick up John, during which I spent most of the drive brainstorming “The Scene” nuances.|
|Written On: May 18th, 31st|
|Last Edited: May 31st|