The Story Never Written
I placed my hand on the desk. Never would that hunk of wood know what treasures it would store inside. The story never written, as I liked to say. The story that germinated inside my mind for years but I never let out. And now, on a single stack of papers, I would finally write it.
Who could know what struggles I went through for this moment? Would I be mocked for my thoughts? Would this valiant effort be in vain? I have no way of telling. The only way I could know is to write the thoughts swirling in my mind. But how? How could hours of meditating on this story, weeks with it brewing in my mind, ever be translated into words? Perhaps I would simply keep it to myself, hidden in the desk for years. Yet, I could never risk someone finding it. No, I must face this challenge now.
My fists clenched as I made the unthinkable decision. I would indeed write it and face the consequences.
I sat staring at the blank canvas, waiting for a masterpiece to be painted. Rhythmically, I tapped the pencil against the desk, wondering where I could start. Perhaps this story wasn't ready. Perhaps the draft after draft archived in my mind wasn't enough. No, I can't back down now. I must be brave and face my fear. With a deep breath, my hand moved, and the pencil touched down upon the paper. It was as if time stood still as I wrote the title in bold letters,“The Story Never Written”. Then my fingers refused to continue.
Minutes ticked by as I stared at the title, my mind racing to find the starting words. But none came. My mind was swallowed up in a thick void which was inescapable. A fog settled down on my mind and refused to budge, even under the strongest attempts. I vainly tried again and again to spit the words onto the page, but my whole body screeched in protest. Maybe I should simply wait. I set down the pencil and pushed the papers aside, but the main title still stared me in the face, upset at its blankness. My hands relaxed, but the minutes still slipped by, the sound of the clock mocking me with every movement of the second hand.
Finally, with a great effort, I seized the papers and again picked up the pencil, fully prepared to write. But something stood in the way, a brick wall in my mind. This story must be shown to the world! This could change the very innerworkings of our culture, of humanity, even! How could I refrain from sharing such a piece with the world?
Yet, I could hear agony echoing through my mind, as though I was giving up my only child.
“It's just a story”, I repeat to myself over and over, but every time the guilt imbeds itself further and deeper in my chest. Again, I do the unthinkable thing. Perhaps this story wasn't ready. Or perhaps it would never be ready. So, I neatly stacked the papers together again and slid them into the desk, locking the drawer. That desk held nothing but a few scribbles of pencil and dashed hopes. The story never written remained unwritten. Now you will never know.
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139,487 Literary Works • 672,577 Reviews
Thanks for sharing this mediative poem describing a dilemma: to write or not to write an idea that has been with us for a long time. It creates drama via being an inner conflict or human against himself. I like the way it draws the reader straight to the thought process with its doubts and unfulfilled aspirations, its hesitations based on doubts, its determination to bring things to fruition and the ultimate resignation to refrain.
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The poem can be improved by providing more specific hints for the hesitation. What exactly hinders the writing? What inner fear does such a writing generate? Hinting about reasons for the guilt as well will add drama to it. Exactly why is it in danger of inciting mockery?
inner-workings
The following is to retain the past tense POV:
“....I refrained....”
“....couldn’t back down had to be brave....”
“I had no way of telling.”
“....embedded itself....”
I agree with RadicalCarrot's on the repetitive part. It goes on a bit too long.
Thanks for the comments! I'm hoping to do a little more work on this story in the future (adding it to an overflowing pile), and I'll be fixing some of those little things.
I really enjoyed this story but I have a few minor nitpicks. First off, and I realize you've hear this before, but it was incredibly repetitive. I understand that the reader is never supposed to know what the story is so that's why just debating whether or not to write the story stretched on for so long. However, maybe you could of gone a little in depth without really explaining the story. Such as talking about how they've always dreamt about it or something to that effect.
This is highly relatable which is one reason I loved it. Yet, there is one part that I thought was kind of, weird I guess. "This story must be shown to the world! This could change the very innerworkings of our culture, of humanity, even! How could I refrain from sharing such a piece with the world?" I found this to be kind of weird. It took what seemed like a small story that they were just writing for fun and made it seem like it could have been a formula to the medicine that would finally cure cancer. I think this made it harder for me t relate to the narrator because I've never thought about one of my stories as something that, "could change the very innerworkings of our culture, of humanity, even!" But obviously it does help the reader get an idea of how important the story is to the narrator.
The only other problem I had was the very very ending. I think you could have left it as, "the story never written remained unwritten," instead of adding the, "Now you will never know." Personally reading that last line and the use of the word you (directing it at the audience) kind of felt like a big middle finger to the audience. I'm sure that you didn't intentionally write it that way, that's just sort of how it made me feel. Because the entire story is about how we can relate to the narrator as writers and the struggle of writing. But when you say that one sentence, it alienates that writer from the rest of us because we will never know what their idea was and you sort of rub salt in the wind by right out saying it directly to the reader. I realize this is needlessly nitpickey for me to point out but I just sort of wanted to say it. Maybe that it the sort of feeling you wanted to create in the read and if that is the case then good job mate.
Overall, this was a great story. It connected with me and I think most people who read it. It made me incredibly sad when the writer gave up because it's something I've seen myself do many times. Your writing style compliments the story and it does feel very natural.
Keep writing and I hope my review wasn't too harsh,
- Radical Carrot
Thanks for the review!
The "story unwritten" has a lot of uncertainty in my mind, so that's why the line about it changing the course of history is in there. As authors, we put a lot of emphasis and glorify how amazing our story is, so it seems like one of those stories that will just sweep the nation, so to speak. And the ending line is intended to just be a little poke at curiosity, not as an insult or alienation of the audience.
Thanks again
Yeah I had a feeling it was a little exaggerated. And I was sure that the ending was supposed to be mean in any way. That was just sort of how it came off to me. But I really loved the story. Keep writing
Well, at the beginning of the story I didn't really get what was going on. It was a bit repetitive saying that I didn't know to write over and over again but overall is was good. I too like the line "as though I was giving up my only child".Though I liked it I didn't really understand it. I mean she admitted that she wasn't able to write anything so why was she so upset when she had to put it away? I really like the last few lines. "The desk help nothing but a few scribbles of pencil and dashed hopes." And "The story written remained unwritten." These are beautiful compositions of hope and beauty. Good job.
Hey there! MJ stopping by for another review
This seems to be contrary to the entire idea of that passage. If you could never risk someone finding it, why is that a motivation to put it down on paper? I just didn't understand that part, which might just be something on my end or a deeper problem.
You did a great job putting this feeling that all writers have experienced into words. I can relate all too well, and the powerful adjectives and verbs you used made it seem like a formidable and fierce enemy, which I enjoyed. However, you seemed to have a rougher time with grammar, so I picked out a couple of nipticks and then corrected those for you.
My main critique was the redundance I began to feel the last paragraph or so. It didn't bring any new ideas to the table and didn't even rephrase the old ones, so I think that got a little repetitive. If you could find a new idea to mix in there, that would be good. I don't think this is a full story yet; you seem to have about a paragraph or so done, but this is a good idea and you've proven that your writing style is good, so I encourage you to continue with this idea and continue writing!
If you have any questions, let me know and I'll try to help you out. I really admire your strength with verbs and adjectives, so I look forward to seeing more from you and I hope that this helps you grow as an author!
Best wishes,
MJ
Thanks for the review! I know the wording isn't ideal, but it's actually an old work that never quite got finished (almost became the Story Never Written itself!)
This really was posted for fun and for all you guys' enjoyment, so I'm glad you related to it!
-AJ
Oh my god I love it. This was so painfully true to read, for me and I imagine every other writer. You put it into words so beautifully, too. I only have a couple things to point out, and they are small.
"Never would that hunk of wood know what treasures it would store inside."
I probably wouldn't have put any thought into this sentence except it was the second sentence of the paper. I was momentarily confused about the hunk of wood. First I thought of a tree being turned into paper being turned into a story. Then the image of a person writing on a desk flashed in my mind. Mostly I think this was just my silly brain not putting things together, and not an actual problem, but something to think about.
"Yet, I could hear agony echoing through my mind, as though I was giving up my only child."
A beautiful sentence, maybe my favorite one. I don't think you need that first comma.
"So, I neatly stacked the papers together again and slid them into the desk, locking the drawer"
Again you don't need the first comma. Also, I got weirdly hung up on the locking the desk part. Like who locks a desk? Is that possible? Another silly thing that doesn't really matter so just ignore me, haha.
Really awesome piece, I couldn't have said any of this better myself.
~Nymeria
yeah, I suppose the "hunk of wood" phrase thing is too ambiguous. And some desks have drawers that lock. Ya know, for top secret stuff and all that. xD
But thanks for the review!
I enjoyed this greatly, mainly, for the fact of that it is so relateable. I was reading this going, "Wow, I'm not the only one that does this?" I feel that what you wrote was beautiful and I don't have any thing to correct, A, because I can't spell and B, I am not good with grammer, either. I love your peice and your writing style. I believe that leaving your character simply as an 'I' was a good idea because ANYONE can connect to your piece. Good job and keep up your writing.
Thanks!
I actually have had this around for a while now, but I never got around to finishing it until yesterday. It was inspired by a story that I was thinking about writing, but *shocker* I never did!
I'm glad you enjoyed it!