I’ve recently taken up writing short stories in order to develop my writing skills. I love short stories because the successful ones are able to convince you of something or invoke a feeling in a few words. That is powerful. I want that kind of power in my writing, and I think practicing writing short stories is a good place to start.
I’ve never been a great writer even though I enjoy reading and I know a lot of people who dread writing anything beyond research papers. I totally understand the struggle, but the truth is, even if you think your writing is terrible, you should never stop practicing because the more you do it the better you’ll get. I know, cliche. But it’s true!
I thought I’d occasionally share some of my writing with all of you. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll inspire someone? Enjoy! 🙂
By the Author of MS
I was having one of those days. You know, the ones that aren’t amazing, but aren’t terrible too. The only problem is that I really had to pee.
As I rushed into the lobby of my apartment building and frantically pressed the elevator call button, all I knew is that if I peed, everything would go back to normal.
Panicking as I watched the elevator go from the ninth floor to the sixteenth and back to the fourteenth, I pressed the call button again, to no avail. Time was running out, and I was finding it harder and harder to look like a professional adult returning from a long day at work, instead of a three-year old who is still potty training.
Feeling like you’re going to die of a bladder explosion can really get you thinking.
When the elevator dinged and a group of people got off, I was lost in thoughts of rural bathrooms and the trials of people who lived in third world countries. I gained a new sympathy for people with no access to proper sanitation.
As I waited for the long ride up to the twenty-fifth floor to end , I started doing one of those dances where you hop from one foot to another and do weird things with your arms, and I made a vow to donate money to bring clean water to remote villages. I promised to recycle more, not to waste toilet paper, and to never leave the tap on while I brushed my teeth. I swore that I would never again complain about cleaning my cozy bathroom. If only the elevator would be faster!
Finally I arrived at my floor and fumbled around trying to open my door. When I got it open, I quickly shut the door behind me and did the awkward try-to-unzip-your-pants-while-running dance. In the end I made it.
After finishing up my business and washing my hands, I made my way over to the kitchen with a smile on my face. I couldn’t remember what I was thinking about in the elevator; I couldn’t recall the promises I had made. The crisis was over, and I was hungry.
Tell me what you guys think of my story in the comments! 🙂