Old and New
With the inauguration of President Biden yesterday, I and many people I know are thinking about change - out with the old, in with the new. This idea has me thinking about my greatest passion, creative writing. I wanted to write to commemorate the occasion, but lately, it feels like my ability to write stories is hindered by my seeming inability to create a coherent plot arc.
So, instead of something new, I think of something old. Thanks to the way thoughts cycle through my head, I relive the same scenes of the same stories in my head for years on end. I can do it multiple times in the same week - or the same day - and feel happy and creative every time. As I look for something new in my craft, however, I find myself increasingly looking towards how I’ve always written stories as repetitively as I think.
As I watched the inauguration, I thought back to election night in 2012, where I brought Cheerios to my college’s bipartisan watch party (good old picky eating) and noticed an older man hovering towards the back of the room. Sure, he was probably a professor, but I didn’t know him, and for whatever reason, I started to wonder what would happen if a senator who was up for election was not at home on election night.
“Why wouldn’t he be home?” I asked myself, and quickly answered my own question: “He is having trouble in his marriage and thinking of getting a divorce.” Later that week, I wrote a short story of that scene. The next year, I revisited my old idea and wrote a new short story about the woman he was having an affair with, and started to delve into his wife’s mental health problems. This story idea was three years old when I turned it into my undergraduate thesis for my creative writing degree, and I have never loved a story so fiercely nor fought for it so hard when I was told - frequently - that it was too much work, too much research, and I should quit.
The last few years, for National Novel Writing Month, I have done something similar to the process I used to create that novel. I keep a list of old ideas on my computer, and instead of brainstorming something new, I instead brainstorm a new take on an old idea. I’ll work on the same project over and over, bringing something new to the mix every time.
The story of a video game NPC (non-playable character) who gains sentience started out as a story of someone learning how the world works, and by the next year, it was about the conflict of extricating oneself from a toxic friendship while saving a video game world from a corrupt hero. The story of a prophet who hears messages from the wrong god turned into a tale of sisterhood across enemy lines. The story of a young man who works together with his brother’s ghost to save a friend and learn that there is more to life than avenging the past is something I’m having trouble with, but would love a new take.
I find it easy to put ideas like this on the back burner whenever it isn’t November, however, because I can so easily get stuck in ideas of the past. I feel such joy when I revisit scenes from old stories, whether original fiction or fanfiction of books, movies, or games that hold a special place in my heart.
I sometimes wonder if this feeling is as strange to people as the fact that I literally never get bored of my favorite foods or songs and could repeat the same menu or playlist every single day. Just as OCD enables me to worry about the same things over and over, and also come up with new and increasingly terrifying ways to worry about these things, it also enables me to find joy from the same things over and over.
I get the same thrill putting on a cosplay for the tenth time that I did the first, even if the fabric is starting to fray and the wig slides down my head all too easily. I’ve watched a special Cameo video an amazing friend sent me for my birthday, of a movie star from the Lord of the Rings movies singing to me and offering me trivia questions, at least a dozen times, and every time brings me the same euphoria as the first. Same goes for eating Italian food and “grinding” (repeating levels) in video games - it never gets old.
And yet, there is also an immense thrill to something new. When I first got that Cameo video, I cried so hard through the first playthrough that I couldn’t even hear what the movie star was saying. When I try on a brand-new cosplay, I feel so confident that I make friends easily and so energetic that I can at least double my usually-high daily step count.
In the past, I’ve always favored the old over the new, due to the ease and the fact that I don’t have to deal with change. But I’ve become inspired to try to do more new things, both in my writing and in my everyday life, as the country also starts something new. To get things going, I’ve ordered some picture cards - some of my favorite writing tools - and I will write a story about a completely new character when they arrive. Maybe this character will find a place in one of my old stories, or maybe, I will take the time to learn more about plotting and create a story just for them. It’s uncertain, which means it’s a little frightening, but just like all new things, it can also give a lot more than it takes.
I sometimes find it hard to appreciate new things, especially changes to my routine. But even during the pandemic, I’ve had time to appreciate new traditions instead of mourning for old ones, and whenever I read a new book, play a new game, or watch a new show, I always look forward to finding the next thing my brain will latch onto.
This year, I hope to find more of the fun of not knowing what happens next, instead of the fear. It’s a tall order, but a good step to take when so many things feel routine. Between my joy in the past and hope for the future, I hope I’ll be able to rekindle my writing soon. Sinking into a story wholeheartedly has always been my favorite part of my OCD, and it would be a welcome newness to the routine I’ve fallen into during the pandemic.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.