Curse of the Writer

Chapter one: Victimized

See? I told you they would come. Stories always originate from somewhere and to a writer all the characters are real. And it’s like I resemble a stalker. I’m looking in on someone else’s life instead of living my own. I can see them, and I can form them, and I can even create them yet at the same time I couldn’t be further from them. I can’t rescue them or stop whatever it is that I need to stop. It feels like a trap. To be a writer. I can tell the stories, but I can’t stop them from happening. I feel so helpless. I can’t change them. I just have to make peace with them. Writing drives, you insane. To be a good writer, you need to be a good stalker. Lose every part of yourself and take over someone else’s life, their character, actions and emotions.

The word puppeteer comes to mind. You have their attention. Now you take it, entice them with what they want then make them want what you have. Pull their strings. Watch them dance. You have no idea that you my dear audience are as trapped as my characters. As trapped as I am.

I’m the outsider in my own story. The villain taking every one of these innocent people down on paper. You should be afraid because you might just be my next victim. This is my monster and it has come to life.

I’m not meant to be here or know the things I know. However, I’m here so let’s just call me the narrator and begin...