On Stories and Writing

I have had so many story ideas that I leave behind, unscripted, open and hanging. I feel so guilty for letting them loose, stuck in time forever. Maybe they continue on, without me, and I’d never really know.

I want to dive into them again, but it’s hard! It’s like trying to renew a broken friendship and it feels like either you’ve moved on or they have.

Here’s an example of a story frozen in time by yours truly:


“Alice… Everything around you is a lie! Your own dark prison which you have created to run away from your traumas… Quick! Wake up, Alice… Before your world steals you away from reality! Do you really want to die, trapped inside yourself forever?

Alice’s past are a blank. She doesn’t know how she came into existence, or how she arrived- she just did. But, she finds herself stuck in a game, a game she was made to play by the Queen. The only rule is simple; Alice mustn’t die. How would she finish the game? Who is that mysterious voice that talks to her when she sleeps? Can she trust her newly made friends and will she ever get back her memories of this world… or another?

Wow do I sound like some cool promo guy. I had fun imagining how writing this story would be like, I haven’t really given it much thought but there’s a lot to explore here!

There are a few more but I didn’t really write up a proper introduction for them. They’re just scattered notes of random ideas that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me.

I really want to write a full story one day. A complete one. But I don’t know if anyone will ever have the time to read it.

So far, as for biggest longest story I’ve ever written (The Blade of the Wind), only three people in this whole world have read it before, my grandma, Wei Qian and Graeme. But Graeme was the only one who read the most, and I didn’t give him all the chapters I’ve really written because the last bits were really wrong and needed a lot of change.

I congratulate them for having stuck with it so long. 64,000 words full of everything my mind had been brewing for months and months, and I’m sure a lot of it didn’t make any sense.

People don’t generally see me as a writer, really. I wish they would, instead of being always labeled as ‘arty’ and ‘good at drawing’.

I’ve always liked writing since young. I remember I wrote and illustrated my first story about some rabbit having a tea party with his other animal friends. I wonder where that little self-stapled booklet went. I think that was when I was in kindergarten!

And in primary school, I loved writing compositions. I loved it when the teacher would print out my stories for the entire class to read. I remember she read one out loud to the class, and a funny bit of the story came, and the whole class erupted into laughter and I was beaming so much hearing them laugh.

Now I just write about real life most of the time. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing! I guess, any kind of writing will help you know yourself a little better, because it’s a bit like a conversation with yourself.

I want to write more. Especially since school is starting. I want to write about the little things too. Like how today, I went into sephora with my grandma and we tried on all sorts of crazy expensive testers (including this little bottle of serum that costs $138 dollars!!!) on the back of my hands. And now, they are as smooth as a baby’s butt.

It’s like taking a picture, but only in words. And when I read back, I won’t forget these memories. I wish I’d captured more of these memories last year. But most of them are pretty much ingrained into my brain since I think about them all the time:/ some things. I don’t know. But happy things:D

What was I writing about again? (I had to scroll up here haha) Right. On completing my story ideas. Well, maybe I’ll have to do some more writing on my own story first before I can start on other ones.


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