Writer in Motion Week 1 Initial Draft

Timeline

 ​The prompt was revealed on July 9.

On July 10, I wrote 24 words: "I am made of smoke and dreams and things you don’t want to see in the mirror.I live in the country of shadow."

After a particularly frustrating day job work day, on July 14, I wrote more words, ending my evening with 487. I still wasn't sure my plot, but the repeating I miss you. I love you. Let me go.​ introduced itself.​

​Of course, once I called it for the night, I went to bed and immediately came up with more of the story. First thing the next morning, I wrote more, filling out a bit more.

Process

​I'm a circular writer. I write in spirals even though my stories are told in a line. At low enough word counts, and usually if I write the full thing in one sitting, I will write through and then my spirals can be reclassified as "filling out." But, filling out to me means to enhance something that exists, not create an entirely new arc, plot, or even interaction between characters. For me, filling out has often to make more for the reader, not for the story. 

Next week

Today's draft is not a finished draft, and it is very, very rough. It is 654 words. It is both too short and too long. 
​
Normally, I wait a week before editing shorts. I won't have that time. I have some tense issues. I already see things I wish to cut, the chorus for one. And I need to fill the story out quite a bit, to edge closer to the 1000 word limit and to round it out for the reader.

In the Country of Shadow

I am made of smoke and dreams and things you don’t want to see in the mirror. I am feared, but I am not the one to be scared of. I live in the country of shadow.

There are many of us. There is a man – well, we’ll call him a man – who is made of smoke and nightmares and the stories you tell yourself in the dark. Those stories, and his embodiment, feed fear.

He is my downfall and my salvation.

I miss you. I love you. Let me go.

I met him, the man of smoke, when I lived in the country of light. I told myself stories, because even the light has shadows.

The shadows were a refuge for me. I was never good enough for the light. The beings there were good and pure. They made mistakes and then learned from them.

I made mistakes, and they multiplied. The beings of light gave me grace. I would learn, eventually, they believed.

In the shadows, I knew my mistakes were mistakes that I would commit again and again. I tried to learn. I did. But the mistakes followed me like a trail of ants, crawling up and down my body.

That’s how he found me. Shivering in the shadows, wallowing in my mistakes, playing them over in my mind. Trying to learn from them. Failing.

I miss you. I love you. Let me go.

I was a child then. He appeared next to me. Like smoke out of nowhere. There he was, sitting next to me. I never saw his face, which remained as smoke though he took a man’s form otherwise. He wore a black hoodie, and jeans.  I pulled my photons in to mimic his form, hardening my waves into particles – the ones I could.

“Do not fear your mistakes, Little One. You will learn.” He promised.

He promised.

He keeps his promises. I learned. I learned from my mistakes. It took years. We aren’t human, those of us who live in the countries of light and shadows. In case you didn’t catch that. But we still start somewhere. And end somewhere, even if that ending is far, far away and timeless.

I miss you. I love you. Let me go.

He did not teach me anything. He sat with me on occasion. He called me Little One, his only name for me.
Time is meaningless in the countries of light and shadow. There is always light. There is always dark.
But the time came that the largest cloud appeared in the sky. “Little One,” it called me, for that was the only name I knew. “You have become a being of shadows and no longer light.”

So I was cast out of the light, into the welcoming arms of the country of shadows. The light still burns inside me. Both worlds entwine within and so I am made of smoke and dreams.

The man was often alone. He joined me when I was alone in the shadows, telling stories in the dark. We sat together the same as we did the first time. Over and over.

I tried to be one of them, fellow beings of shadow. I tried as hard with them as I tried to learn from my mistakes. But I still wasn’t right there. Over time, the man made of smoke and nightmares sought me less. Until he never came. Until he turned me out.

“Little One, you have done well here. We welcomed you, but you are still not one of us. You can no longer live here amongst the shadows.”

Now I live in neither country light and shadow, made of both smoke and light. It has been isolating. Lonely.  

I miss you. I love you. Let me go.

​That is how I became made of the things you do not want to see in the mirror.

Addendum

After posting, I edited to add the prompt image and some links.

Adding these more thoughts, just for transparency. I would never post or submit this story. In fact, this story fought me so much, if it weren't for this program, I would not have written it. The story feels too influenced from others, despite me trying not to read other people's responses to the prompt. 

Links to Other Writer in Motion Stories

I learned about Writer in Motion from Erin Fulmer. Here's her unedited first draft. 
Keir Alekseii livestreamed her writing, which is a cool idea. View the video and result here. 
Mel Grebing was inspired by the prompt and posted their story as well.

Enjoying all these stories? View all the participants at Writer in Motion Week 1: The Messy First Draft.