“I’m gonna write a book. I wanna write a book. How? I don’t know. I don’t even know what the story would be. There’s an idea but with very little details. If it’s gonna make a one-minute trailer for a movie, it will be the whole movie. It won’t even reach a minute.
Just an idea.
An idea that’s been planted in my thoughts for a long time now. Sci-fi. But not too heavy on science, just.. kinda sci-fi. I’m not even a nerd. No, don’t take this the wrong way. My definition of nerd is someone who knows a lot about science, technology, and other stuff that requires a genius to understand. The idea is inspired by some TV shows and movies I’ve watched, but mine is gonna be different. How do I start? What even would be the first sentence? The first word? It’s frustrating.”
“I’m dreaming. There’s no way I’d write a novel. This isn’t even something I’ve learned in school, how the heck could I write a fiction? A novel? It’s crazy. Shut up and go to sleep.”
“No! I’ll write it! The fact that this little idea had been stuck in my head and would pop up from time to time means something. It means that I really wanna do it. And if I spend more time thinking about it, eventually I’m gonna create a whole story. The plot, the setting, the characters, everything!”
“I’m kidding myself. This thing I call ‘an idea’ is just my boredom trying to help me kill time. Then, when I start to become busy wasting my time again on social media and my attention gets diverted on other stuff, that idea will just fade away and I’ll realize I was just daydreaming and nothing more.”
“Well, I’ll keep daydreaming, then!”
“If that’s what it takes, then I’ll get crazy!”
“Yeah.. I guess.”
“See? I’m not even sure of it myself.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Dammit. I’ll still do it..”
That’s my brain having a debate with itself. One side of the brain is optimistic and passionate, and the other is a parent.