I want to paint it black

The first time I realized that I wanted to write was when I was a small child and read comics day in and day out. I wanted to write comics, and to draw them. In fact, I made my own comic book on notebook paper. It was about a superhero that wore a red ninja-ish costume and could turn into a ball of fire and fly to and fro. I named him (shockingly) "Fireball." I had almost a full issue complete when I realized that my hero and a candy that I was found of had the same name. Worried of stealing the name I tried to come up with something else. When I couldn't, I abandoned the idea. I wish so badly that I had a copy of that almost complete comic of mine, but alas it is probably long ago lost in a dump somewhere.

I think though that in creating this character I realized how much I loved creating such a character. When I was a little older I started to write a book. I was maybe ten, and I never got past a couple of pages with any of my various attempts to write this book. It was a book about a superhero, though, like the comic, but with less work because I didn't have to draw it all out. The hero was a toad, named (shockingly) "Super-Toad." Super-Toad wasn't really a first class hero though, and he had a sidekick (whose name I can't recall) that he argued with all the time. Super-Toad wasn't interested in saving the world, he was interested in making a name for himself. The beginning of the "book" started out with a scene that was essentially: "Super-Toad flew in through the open window and looked upon his friend Mega-Frog. Mega-Frog sat relaxed in the corner smoking a corn cob pipe and reading the times. Super-Toad smiled and said 'How would you like to make some money?' A sly smile emerged across his face and Mega-Frog smirked as he said 'We have plenty of money!' Super-Toad, eyes wide with surprise, responded 'But not enough!' They laughed at the gaiety and then, with a somber stare Super-Toad said 'But how about the key to the city?' Mega-Toad coughed a mushroom cloud of a smoke."

I abandoned Super-Toad and his adventures. If I am feeling adventursum sometime I may finish the story, but the story wasn't important, it was the moment of creativity that arose in me as I wrote. I wanted more than anything to write, and to write for the publics enjoyment. Ironically now I don't want anyone to read most of my stories because I don't feel they are good enough for others to read. Maybe I'm just a wuss, maybe I'm afraid of putting my work out there. I don't know, really. I've only ever sent one thing in for publication and it got rejected (and as most writers say, this is very common) but I've just never sent in another thing. I have a story now (one that I am not that pleased with, honestly) that I have had reviewed by a professor and I think that I could get it published with a little work and yet I havn't sent it in. I just need to go through it once more, I think, and correct a few minor errors. I tell myself that the reason I don't send it in is because I don't like it, which I don't, which is odd because I wrote it, but honestly the full story of it feels somewhat contrived and ill concieved to begin with. Yet at the same time I sort of fell in love with the story, and I think thats what makes me so afraid of trying to get it published. I look at it and feel I could have done a 100 times better in writing it and yet for a long time I couldn't get enough of it. I'd be proud, I think, to call it my "early work" if I were ever in a position to refer to it as such. I guess I am just afraid of sending it in. Hell, I'm afraid of posting this because I'm not sure if I got the point I wanted to across correctly. But I think I am going to post this because I havn't posted anything in a long time and this is a ramble enough that the only people that will read it are going to have some reason for reading it, not to get into my mind perhaps, but because something about this intregied them. I don't know what that would be. Maybe my eccentricities were appealing to them in some way. I don't know why I went through the trouble of writing out why I think I will post all of this except for to show how scared I am of having others read my writting.

I hate writing about writing. But it is one big topic that is always on my mind. So talking about it seems natural. Maybe sometime later I will write about some of my other failed writing experiments, but for now I am off.