Nothing brings me more excitement than making a new document.
It happened just a second ago, when creating this very column. I let my mouse glide over the colorful “plus” at the top of the Google Docs menu—a plus that means creation. A plus that means starting anew. But however much I love this symbol, what I love most lies underneath: “Blank Document.” A fresh slate. A new beginning.
I have loved writing since before I knew what Google Docs even was. When I was young, my mother opened for me my very first online writing tool: Microsoft Word. I was excited, albeit a little overwhelmed. Its dashboard seemed to have endless buttons and controls that were far more complicated than my wooden pencils and sparkly lined notebook. Still, the sleek application opened up a whole new world of possibilities—writing quickly with consistent (legible) print among them, yes, but also to the world of writing in general.
My first story was a written account of a tall child’s tale—an artifact I found amongst the weekly replays of my mother’s old photos. It was poorly formatted, yes, and hardly original, but it was my first. I can imagine my pride showing on my cheeks as I gracelessly typed out the letters, or how my curious mouse scurried across the fonts to land on my favorite one.
My first stories, my real stories, arose in the fourth grade, this time on Google Docs. My best friend and I would create what felt like a new story every week. The titles would be something silly with a sillier swirling font beholding them. Often, just past the front page is as far as we would get.
The stories would be a physical Frankenstein of our lives and whatever the read-aloud book was at the time. I remember being amazed by the concept of a multi-perspective book—and subsequently writing one with a character dynamic too similar to be a coincidence. I remember inserting my inside jokes with my best friend into the dialogue and giggling as I typed.
Most of all, I remember the excitement I would feel upon receiving an idea for my newest novel: the joy of starting anew. My favorite part was the planning page, in which I described every character in detail. Every possible physical and personality trait was explained in such depth that I was immensely excited to bring these characters to life.
I never did.
After a few months, a few weeks, or even just a few days of beginning my stories, my consistency with writing them tapered off. The bout of tumultuous creativity that had inspired the story would fade away. Every time.
My father has always told me that I am a starter, not a finisher. His words hurt, of course, but I can’t deny how his discerning comments have come to fruition, not just in my elementary school novels but also today. Whether it be learning guitar, clubs I take interest in, or just school assignments in general, procrastination and a lack of discipline rampage on my recreation.
I want to finish the races I begin. I want to be someone who commits themselves to what they committed to; who, even when they are burnt out or tired, stays true to their plan of creation.
At the end of the day, this is why I like writing on this site. I can say what I want or what needs to be said, anywhere from 450 to 2,000 words. I get to dive into my thoughts without technically devoting myself to 200 pages of consistent, quality writing.
I get to create a new, blank document twice a week.
