Not Etched in Stone

When I wrote my first story Star Force (original huh!) back in third grade, editing and revising was as alien to me as Mr. Spock was to Dr. McCoy’s medical scanners. I remember that day well. Jack Frost blessed us with enough snow to cancel school. My twin brother and I spent all morning and afternoon writing. Coincidentally, his epic novel was titled Star Blast. You can probably guess this was the early 80’s and that both of us had our trusty bowcaster and lightsaber at our sides.

Sixty-five pages and a cramped, ready-to-be-traded-in-for-a-better-model hand later, my masterpiece was finished. I was so proud. Not only had I written my first book, I finished before my brother.

The next twenty minutes was spent creating a spectacular cover. Mom had just bought a big box of Crayolas, the one that had every color and name of crayon you could think of. My dazzling cover had robots, colorful planets, laser beams, and spaceships that looked a lot like X-Wings and TIE Fighters. The Dark Avenger, clad in black helmet, armor, and robe, occupied the center space. No lightsaber though. I must make that clear. The Dark Avenger had a phaser stick. No way did I want people thinking Star Force was a cheap knock off of Star Wars. Aha! The perfect book. A stunning cover and sixty-five pages of sheer poetry.

Flash forward one hour later...I leaned back on the sofa, reflecting upon what I just read. How did my wonderful masterpiece suddenly turn out to be so...unoriginal? There was blaster fights, exploding spaceships and planets. Even a climactic duel between Denge Arkili (the hero) and The Dark Avenger. The final page contained a hero’s ceremony. What was there not to like about that? Brilliant right? No! Though I tried to convince myself stores would soon carry a line of Denge Arkili and Dark Avenger action figures, I realized my first book was a complete failure. I tore up the pages and chucked them in the garbage.

It wasn’t until a couple years later in sixth grade while writing a Choose Your Own Adventure titled, Mile High Hill that I realized my writing was not etched in stone. I had the freedom to change words, characters, or scenes. If I didn’t like something, I could improve it. Two or three drafts later and Mile High Hill still stunk, but at least I didn’t throw it away. I have a typed copy to read for laughs or to draw inspiration from. The valuable lesson learned from my first two attempts at writing was to never throw out—or delete—anything, no matter how bad it seems. There is always time to improve it or to revisit a scene or character for a different project. The next time you read over your own manuscript, remember any idea is worth working on, even if it takes months or years to realize that idea’s vision. I’m even considering bringing back The Dark Avenger for a scene in The Toupeed Eagle, phaser stick and all.