ScriptSuperhero.com

Writing up an ad, say for golf apparel ladies and men would seek from, oh, Wal-Mart or something, is far easier than crafting fiction. Review writing, blogging, even journalism is easier. (And I’ve won awards for my journalism, so I don’t say that lightly.)

The reason is that there’s so much you don’t have to think about in any of those pursuits. Golf ads? Your audience is a no-brainer: golfers! Writing a review of Final Fantasy XII? No need to come up with a subject! A surprising turn of events? Just attend a trial and you’ll report on plenty.

But writing fiction? It’s all up in your head. Nowhere to turn but inward, into the creative world where nothing exists until you dream it up. And to pass it off, it has to be more convincing than reality itself.

No small task.

After nearly five years of journalism, a decade of review writing, and who knows how much goofing off with non-serious “writing for giggles” tasks, gearing back up into fiction-writing mode - supposedly my true first love, creatively speaking - is not as easy as it might seem. It’s not as easy as, say, lighting a fire from the embers of a previous blaze in an outdoor fireplace.

I have a project I’ve been playing around with like a cat with an injured mouse for some time now. It’s a story of a teen girl with a superpower who could care less about having a special ability. It’s basically an X-men-like concept that is set in a far more realistic world than most comic books offer.

It’s a fun, great, dramatic story that, because I’ve tarried so long with it, will now be seen as being derivative of HEROES, blast it. Even though I started working on this a couple years before that excellent show came on.

I’ve been struggling to get back into that world, setting aside the comparisons that will surely be made, even if vaguely, between my graphic novel and that NBC show. And it’s been hard.

Then I hit upon an idea that uncorked my imagination.

Initially, we had envisioned our story - my artist pal and me - as consisting of four 12-page installments as part of a monthly anthology we’d only contribute to. Now we’re re-envisioning it as a 48-page graphic novel.

The key to curing my creative constipation was a new scene as a preface. A scene that will prepare readers better for the tone and dark storyline ahead of them

That did the trick. Now I’m writing fiction again.

I’ll get this out right up-front.

I do a ton of writing. I blog for extra cash. I write reviews for free videogames. I’m slated to start writing sermons for my messianic church’s Web site. I’m researching articles that may lead to my first book, in the area of true crime. And for fun, I write up sports stories for fun through a sports videogame, on that publisher’s Web site.

But when it comes to real, creative fiction writing, my own wife’s outdoing me lately.

I love writing. I do a lot of it. But when it comes to fiction writing, it’s been on the back-burner for me, for far too long.

My wife, on the other hand, isn’t a big fan of writing. At least, not doing it herself. She often feels she’s not up to the task, though I discourage such negative thinking.

But in the first year of our marriage, she’s been going through changes. She’s a much more active reader than she once was, though she’d never admit it. And she has some wonderful ideas for stories that are highly motivated by personal experience.

And no, it’s not an advice book on how to make silk trees. These are genuine, deeply felt stories that she just can’t contain inside herself anymore.

Tonight, she started writing a novel, based on some of those experiences. I’m thrilled for her. After a couple years of worrying over completing academic papers between four to seven pages in length, she is now fearlessly - for the most part - embarking on a long project that could require at least 200 to 300 pages of effort.

But she’s set on following through and tonight - her first night as a prospective novelist - she produced two pages. If this tale of hers goes for even 200 pages, she’s already one percent done and she’ll be finished before the holiday season if she sticks with it.

I hope she does.

But at the same time, it’s a gauntlet tossed down. Not by my wife, but by her example.

I love writing. I do a lot of it. But as my wife is fond of saying, when am I going to stop writing for everyone else and start “doing something” with my writing?

Ouch. Truth hurts.

Time to dig that graphic novel script out and get to work and hope my Canadian artist buddy is still up for it.