Please Don’t Feed the Writer

It’s been there for about a year now.  Over that time it’s changed, mutated, grown, evolved.  But I haven’t got any of it down on “paper” yet.  It’s still just “there” changing over time, becoming longer, shorter, more mature.  I haven’t written a single word of it, but it still grows.

“Why aren’t you writing it down?” you ask.

“I’m not sure.” would be my answer.

Perhaps I’m worried that once I start, it will lose some of its magic, or that I’ll lose sight of why I wanted to write this tale in the first place.  You see, it’s a very personal story.  Based on my life and the life of my stepson, though neither of us will be mentioned.

It’s the story of someone who would like nothing more than to fit in, to belong in a society that has a certain idea of who and what you are supposed to be, how you should act, and a very critical view of anyone different.  this may seem strange to another writer.  All of us tend to be a little “different”.  We were never what the world expected of us, no matter what that happened to be. But when I’ve been this way all my life.  the loner, the dreamer, that kid in the corner who could never stop fidgeting, who spoke out of turn, whose enthusiasm was unbridled and out of place in a nice idyllic school setting.

S o goes the life of the main character of the tale in my head.  An elf in Santa’s workshop that just can’t quite fit in.  that is until the big guy steps in and finds a place for him.  A story for every kid out there who lives on the outside of his friends, his class or his family.

A story for kids like I was.

What do you think?  Should I write it,or just let it continue to grow?