i’ve toyed with the idea of writing something creatively for a long time, between making homebrew d&d worlds, conlanging, and just getting interested by some ideas i come across in other writing or media. i dunno, i’ve never really imagined myself as a “writer”, per se, but have always wanted to try putting my own take on concepts i find in fantasy or other genres. i’m not necessarily married to the idea of a fantasy novel or anything like that, but there’s always been something appealing to me in stories set in unreal locations. right now, i’m reading (listening to) Gabriel García Márquez’s magnum opus Cien Años de Soledad, or One Hundred Years of Solitude in english. i’m only about 15% through so far, but the style and setting are so interesting to me. the way García Márquez tells the story in such a matter-of-fact way, as if all the alchemy and wonder in the festivals is just how things are, totally secondary to the story. that sort of “magical realism” is so interesting to me. of course, typical high fantasy with elves and orcs and magic spells has its place, too, and i love that stuff just as much. but the more “realistic” stuff is much more reflective of my style right now, i think.

anyway, this is all a super long-winded way of saying that i think my writing is not very good but i would like it to be better. in the past, i’ve started trying to draft stories but have quickly gotten frustrated with (a) trying to figure out where to take the plot without it feeling railroaded, and (b) my unpracticed, sloppy prose. so we’re going to do the thing that every writing blog and writer’s advice article tells you to do when you get stuck: try some writing prompts! i’m not gonna do one every day. i probably won’t even do more than one a week, if i even manage that. but for days when i’m feeling inspired to write something and have no idea what to do, it’s a good start, i think. so that’s what i did today.

the prompt

i nabbed this prompt from a TED Ed article about writer’s block (surprise!) that had a few examples on it. one was just something like “tell how you won (or lost) your fortune” or, you know, how a character did. i wasn’t too inspired by this, but figured i probably wouldn’t be by any prompt right away, so instead of spending an hour finding another one i just went with it.

the product

My money was not given to me by familial status, nor was it by some effect of luck. Nor did I attain it in some underhanded or dubious way, such as by the swindling of old women or by selling snake oil concoctions to the unwise. No, my wealth came to me in the true manner of hard work and unyielding labor. Endowed to me by the dexterity of my hand, the strength of my muscle, and the stench of my sweat. I paid for every penny with my own blood. Yes, in order to attain such a fortune one must make sacrifice. My years of solitude show proof of that. The want for human contact would drive lesser men mad, but not such as I. My hard-earned estate will keep me and, now that it is mine, will bring with it its own beneficience. Now that my labor has ended, if only for a short while, my mind and body may be turned to those lesser matters—peer distraction, minor amusements, bodily pleasure. I find, however, that these matters, which once seemed so important to me in my younger years that they might subsume my entire being have, in my age and wisdom, lost their power over me entirely. Now, they provide naught but the barest pleasure. Instead, I find solace in the recounting of my estate, the accounting for each and every coin, the preparation of ledgers, the sweetness of a saved cost. How have I amassed such wealth, you ask? Have I not told you? Through honest labor, hard work, temerity of soul! The retention of each item in my possession until its usefulness is wrung out, the fibers holding each stitching together, the wood surrounding each nail begins, nay, proceeds to rot! The very clothes on my back threadbare! The walls of my manse, which once stood sturdily, creak and splinter. A hard life, aye, but no fortune was ever won without sacrifice. And a fortune I have! See it, plain as day! My manse, crumbling as it might be, is far grander than the hovels of the petty, penniless nobility. My tattered robes plusher than the scraps of burlap that clothe the festering masses! Look! Even now, servants bring my supper! Could such a thing be true for any but the wealthiest man in God’s sight? One whose fortune could feed a kingdom? Yes, I have wealth greater than even that of kings. Look upon my estate, how it teems with serfs! So lowly they are that they fear to even ask for wages! Ha! The opportunity to even look upon the majesty of my estate, of my person is well payment enough. The fools tend my garden, keep the grounds, and bring my supper as a service to my generosity. I give them a place to ply their trades, a kindly master, and spare them the whip. More than the lot of them deserve. Most men with a fortune such as mine would be cruel. Not I. I know the value of hard work. My money was not given to me by familial status, nor was it by some effect of luck. Nor did I attain it in some underhanded or dubious way, such as by the swindling of old women or by selling snake oil concoctions to the unwise. No, my wealth came to me in the true manner of hard work and unyielding labor.

discussion

i know what you’re thinking and yes, that is all one big wall of text. yes, it is intentional. i know also that my prose leaves a bit to be desired. if you have comments on that, there’s a reply button at the bottom of every post, feel free to throw ’em at me. this isn’t going to really be a discussion on why i wrote things the way i did, but more so what my thinking was throughout the process and anything that i struggled with. mostly a space of self-reflection.

so for this prompt, i immediately thought about how i could make it more interesting than just “i won the lottery!” or “i’m a nepo baby and spent my family’s entire estate on shitty yachts!” or something else like that. so i went to the edgy side of predictable and started writing about a dude that made his money doing shady shit but didn’t want to come right out and say it. so, “no, i didn’t win this, i didn’t get it from my family” with maybe some vibes of “my family is actually dirt poor”. i wanted to seed the explanation with defensiveness to give the whole thing a sort of sinister air, ya know? as i kept going, though, i noticed one of my bad habits leaking through: repeating myself. normally i would delete everything and start over and then get annoyed that i’m not making progress and just quit! today, though, i decided to commit to writing without deletion as much as possible. i did correct a couple of things, change a word here and there. with that in mind, i decided to lean into things a bit and pivoted to the guy being a total nutso. i tried to make the ramblings a little bit more unhinged as it went on, ending with the hamfisted repetition of the introduction. still, i think i’m overall okay with how it turned out. it might not be entirely clear from the text, but the “servants” and “serfs” are actually people that work at the mental institution where the guy is housed. the wealth? all a delusion. or maybe not entirely, but dude certainly doesn’t have “wealth greater than that of kings”. not even close.

well that’s all i got for today. see you next time, guys and gals.