Writing is a Sea of Storms

Thunder crashed overhead as lightning split the sky in a blinding flash of white. The sea roared and swelled, waves crested with white foam and spray. Among the turbulent waters and powerful storm there sailed a small boat, tossed to and fro in the harsh winds as they whipped its sail in one direction and then another.

Aboard this boat was a Writer, a determined soul who tasked themselves with crafting a novel worthy of sharing with the world. But the path to authorship was filled with trials and hidden dangers— the Sea of Storms among them.

The Writer clutched the mast of their ship, fingers slick against the soaked wood and driving rain. They had been sailing for months in search of land, the coveted “The End” of their story. The Sea was as unpredictable as the swirling winds around the boat— days of calm waters and a clear mind were followed shortly by weeks of nothing but doubt and storm. The Writer turned between confidence that their story would be finished to fear that it never would, back and forth and swirling together until the Sea became a long, monotonous journey that the Writer wanted to avoid more than ever.

This had been the longest storm of the Writer’s journey so far. Weeks upon weeks of incessant rain and swelling waves, with no end in sight. The Writer felt empty, drained of all determination they had at the start. Their story laid untouched on the desk below deck. All the Writer wanted was to give up, to turn around and go back to the life they had before deciding to write a story.

All I wanted was to write a book, the Writer thought as they blinked through the blinding rain and gazed up at the roiling sky above, the clouds close enough to touch. I never wanted to sail through storms like this. I never wanted to worry about whether I can make it across the Sea.

The Writer shook their head, looking at the ropes under their fingers and the endless sea before them. Could they turn back? Could they give up everything they had worked for, all the words they had written and all the trials their characters have faced?

Thunder rumbled in the Writer’s heart. The Writer looked once more at the storm that surrounded them before heading below deck to the last place they wanted to be right now— the writing desk.

The desk was dimly lit by a frantically swaying lantern hanging above it, stray papers and bottles of ink rolling back and forth like the ship on the sea. The Writer took a deep, shuddering breath, drawing on every ounce of courage that had led them here, and stepped over to the desk. Laying atop it, wreathed in flickering light from the lantern, was the Writer’s work— their story.

The story that had remained untouched for weeks.

A worming sense of guilt knotted the Writer’s stomach. I couldn’t write, they told themself. Not with these storms around me. The Writer continued to console themself, thinking of excuse after excuse for leaving their work for so long.

I had to wait for the storms to cease, they thought. It’s too hard to write when thunder roars and the seas rock and your ship is carried about and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Still, guilt pricked the Writer’s heart, for a realization had come softly to them as they stared at their work. With trembling hands, the Writer opened their story, the spine crackling and the pages fluttering. Dark lines of ink took up each page, a tale woven over months of hardship and trying. The Writer read their story, living once more in the minds of their characters and feeling for their pain as they traveled through danger and despair only to emerge stronger.

I could never be like my characters, the Writer thought glumly, remembering their own cowardice at the storms. They can face all sorts of oppositions, and still their story continues.

But as the Writer thought, with the storm still raging outside, they imagined themselves within a story. A story of a desperate sailor searching for land. With a wry smile, the Writer realized the story wouldn’t be much if the sailor arrived on the shore unscathed and without having changed.

There’s no story if there’s no growth, the Writer reminded themself, leafing through their story. And that’s when the Writer gasped, frozen in shock, a silent tear trickling down their face and plopping onto their story.

The storms…the Sea…my story…the Writer thought, mind spinning. Suddenly everything was clear. The Writer sat down in their chair, head in their hands. A moan escaped their lips.

This is my task, the Writer realized. If I wish to write a story, I must face many challenges, much as my characters do. I must sail the Sea. And I must try my hardest to write amidst the storms.

The Writer stood, a new purpose filling them. They returned to the deck, standing firm against the whipping wind and howling rain. The boat rocked violently beneath them and the waters churned with sizzling white foam, but the Writer was not shaken.

I cannot be like my boat, they thought, gripping the ropes and turning the sail. The Writer strained against the powerful winds, but would not be overcome. Storms will arise. It will be hard. But I cannot abandon my duty and let myself drift like a wayward ship on the Sea.

The ship crested a wave and the Writer clenched their fists until they turned white. The storm continued to rage, but the Writer knew their task. Writing a story does not contain only the time spent inking words on the page. Writing is a duty we must rise to each day.

The wind whipped the sail around, and the Writer gasped. But their hands remained on the ropes, and after a few strong tugs the sail returned to its place and the ship surged forward. Facing the storms is a part of writing, the Writer thought. And if I wish to finish my story, I cannot be daunted by them.

Thunder crashed overhead as lightning split the sky in a blinding flash of white. The Sea roared and swelled, waves crested with white foam and spray. Among the turbulent waters and powerful storm there sailed a small boat, flying over the waves with purpose as the wind howled around it.

Aboard this boat was a Writer, a determined soul who tasked themselves with crafting a novel worthy of sharing with the world. They knew the path to authorship was filled with trials and hidden dangers— the Sea of Storms among them. And they knew that to finish their story, they must face them and emerge stronger, for the Sea was a part of the journey.

A journey that will grow me and teach me far more than simply writing about growth ever could, the Writer thought with a smile as a distant smudge of green appeared on the horizon.

See you among the shelves,

Emma G. McKee

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