I'm Back.

A Story by Ashley Camden

It's been a while and a lot has transpired in the amount of time that I have been gone. My daughter is almost two and today of all days my ambition to be a writer seems to be stronger than anything.

My brain is going a million miles a minute right now. I finished half of book from Debbie MaComber this afternoon and it was wonderful I fell in love with the first story and wasn’t quite ready for the next one so I picked my Twilight book back up. I have decided to finish it before moving onto the second story in the other book. Anyways the Twilight saga by Stephanie Meyer, as controversial and universally loathed as it is I am IN LOVE. I always have been and always will be. I am mesmerized by Stephanie’s rendition of vampirism, and almost envy this love sick fantasy land.I have gotten to the point where I actually found a book on Vlad the impaler, who is said to have been a vampire like creature. Yeah that bad. I live for Bella and Edward, and am definitely team vampire more than team wolf pack. While the wolf pack boast more of a sexually appealing aesthetic, I find that the vampire of Stephanie’s world are much more appealing to me as a person. All my life I have felt drawn to the paranormal and supernatural. In fact I think most people dream about alternative universes where things are different and their lives are different. For me personally I have always felt a spiritual connection to the unknown though. Like the desire is more of a calling to my natural state of being, my original design, not mortal but immortal, much like Edward and the rest of the Cullens. Vampires are mysterious and beautiful creatures. Depicting both darkness and light, demonic and ethereal. That is how I have felt, like I am some lost ethereal being who still has to discover the great big purpose I have in this world.

I have always had this desire to be non human, a beautiful, majestic and honorable creature. Immortal, yes human. I have an odd beauty and most of my personality remains hidden within my soul. My heart always seems to create situations found in the realm of fantasy though I remain in reality.

For example, I whenever I check the mail at night I think “ what if the neighbors think I am some international special ops spy.” Obviously crazy and impossible notions but that is where my imagination takes me. I don’t know what to do with my brain. Some brilliant ideas pop into my head but any ideas for how to make them into a popular story even with youth would be impossible. I can’t concentrate enough to brainstorm how to elaborate on that idea. I really need to go to school to learn how to manage my imagination better….

Sometimes I think to myself “ What would Bella do?” Not that it matters because Bella is a character created by an author, not real what so ever on an spectrum and really has no place in reality, yet I long more than anything in the world to be her. I relate to her even though she is fictitious. I know that is kind of the point to created characters but to take these characters as far as I have sometimes make me feel clinically insane. I don’t think I am crazy or out of touch with reality, in fact I am very much in touch with reality if I don’t say so myself. Perhaps I just have an overactive imagination that needs pruning. That is highly likely.

Confession: I started this brain dump with the intention of spilling my guts on what my life would look like if I was vampire( in hopes I could create a parallel story to the Twilight saga using my life) Sort of like a Character and Story outline if you will. Those are the easiest and more fun parts of the writing process if you ask me but I digress. Instead of it being an overly designed story board it has become another sad brain dump journal entry that leaves me with no resolution what so ever with an age old problem to which I can not solve. Like a bird in a cage dreaming of catching the wind, riding the current of endless adventures with no boundaries what so ever, is how I feel as a would be published author. Here I sit in my closet wondering my would be readership are left on the edges of their seats with my stories, as I leave them a gut wrenching cliff hanger on the last page of their book while they wait for the next installment to arrive. Will I ever have a public reading? Will I ever be honored enough to sit in a book store for book signings while my fans rave about my writing and how it has helped them explore more of themselves than they ever thought possible. My mind drifts to what ifs. What if, what could have been could turn into a could be? Is it to late to enchant an audience with audacious speech and the grandeur of fantasy?

Is it possible to be the Siren of a literary realm? Singing a beautiful song and luring the reader to their emotional death and resurrection like a sick masochistic creature of darkness? I would die to be that author. To be renowned and loved for my works. Maybe not studied in schools but my books come out and they fly off shelves.... I wonder if that would even be possible for me. Who knows, but I have to start some where I guess.