Creative Writing

Creative writing. Two words. Two stupid words. When I think of creativity I think of children, I think of an endless imagination, but mostly I think of art. A subject I didn't choose not because I don't like it but because my mind is unable to access the elusive plane of creativity. Therefore why should I be sentenced to a thousand words of torture?

My reluctance to attempt this wretched task can only be blamed on my dissipating self-esteem. Children are immensely creative; their free spirited minds have yet to discover that people are constantly and will always judge. I was a child once and I was also creative, but my fear of judgement and my lack of belief that I could create something that wasn't 'stupid' or 'silly' or 'uncool' caused me to shut away my creative side into a place so far away it is unlikely I will ever rediscover it; at least not in time to complete this task.

One week. That's all I've got, one incredibly short week, to achieve what I have deemed to be the impossible. I must pour my heart and soul into a thousand words, in a desperate attempt to wake up the exhausted markers, using a combination of last minute metaphors and squeezed in similes. A task that if not impossible, is certainly beyond my mere mortal mind.

The seconds tick past as I wrack my brain for ideas, searching, scrabbling in the deepest depths of my mind for that elusive spark, but I can't, I can't quite dig deep enough to find my creativity. Am I utterly devoid of it? Doubtful of my own ability, I turn to the saviour of our generation's grades, the great god, google, praying for inspiration. But nothing, not one spark of inspiration, the one I have always turned to has failed me in my desperate time of need.

All hope seems to be lost; I have yet to come up with an idea and then I still have to write this awful, pointless, time consuming piece of creative writing. Despair sets in as I become doubtful that I will get this task done in time. Or ever.

My procrastination skills are at their finest when I decide that a good night's sleep might help, or that I need a break and that watching YouTube might inspire my creativity. Idiotic, I know especially as my stress levels rise with the passing days, my brain remaining stubborn. Four days and a lot of unsuccessful 'motivational' chocolate later and my stress levels are as high as they can get. My mind goes at a million miles a minute, just trying to think of something to write about.

'I need to come up with something, I need something to write about, I need an idea,' my brain repeats that dialogue hoping it will inspire me although knowing deep down that it won't.

After convincing myself that it's never going to get done and that I'm going to fail, I break down and cry, wishing that I didn't have to do this and questioning my entire existence. My mind wanders to what I will say to the teacher when I have nothing to hand in, knowing that everything counts towards my HSC. A big fat zero would be hard to overcome. I would have to receive high marks for all my other assessments. But that's not going to happen because presumably they're all going to end up like this one. I lose myself in those panicked minutes that stretch into eons in my head as I wonder what I'm going to do. The world starts to fade back into focus, and I find myself curled up under the covers, hiding from my responsibilities in the comforting void that I have carved out within my bed.

Breathe.

In. Out.

In. Out.

As I calm down, it comes to me. That precious stray thought, when I thought it would never come. The rarest, most perfect of things. An Idea. The Idea I need. The Idea that I think will work. Hope floods into me as I write the first sentence, maybe with a few late nights this will get done in time. My writing starts and stops, stutters and sputters, sparks and spits, as I struggle to find the right words, but I have to keep going, I need to, because this is the only idea I have come up with.

Five hundred words, I've reached the half point of my punishment. Only five hundred more words to go, but they aren't there. Surely the thousands of books I've read and conversations I've had cannot have granted me only five hundred words to use? I am reduced, once more, to diving deeper into the depths of my conscious, not searching for inspiration now, but words, only words. I pass a million of the sparks I had desired so deeply before, discard them for trash, for it is too late to use them now.

My hope dissipates as my effort to continue the story is thwarted by the distractions around me. The flow of my story has come to an abrupt stop, the unsteady stop-go-stop rhythm I was riding at the beginning, vanishing before my eyes, and my fingers stall at the keyboard, the tiny buttons that had once graciously responded to my slightest touch now feet like granite pillars, fighting every attempt to transform my thoughts to paper.

The due date is approaching faster than I dare to believe; less than twelve hours away. All I need is an ending, some way to finish the story, some way to end my week long torment.

That's it, the end, full stop. I'm done; I finally finished this piece of creative writing. It's might not be amazing but it is something to hand in, I won't get a zero, I won't fail, I won't be rejected from University, from a job, from my peers. My life won't end, I can succeed!

Relief fills me as I hand the printed copy to my teacher, the weight of this burden lifts from me, and I feel it, I feel my back straighten and my head rise up high; I actually did it, I managed to reach deep enough to rediscover my creativity.

***

Hi, if you made it to the end, congratulations! Anyway this is my creative writing piece for my HSC at the end of 2016. HCS (Higher School Certificate) is the end of school exams we do in Australia. I would really appreciate it if you could comment any suggestions, errors or improvements you might have.

Thanks.