Origin Stories
Plus: Monthly Mourning Pages
Last time: Finding Your Way Out of Book Purgatory
“Why is it so hard to transcend the identities assigned to us when we were young?” —Anthony Doerr, Cloud Cuckoo Land
I have wanted to be a writer since I was seven years old.
Scratch that. Let me edit.
I have been a writer since I was seven years old.
When my second grade teacher gave us composition books and called them a journal, when my mom bought the typewriter I had wished for, when I read enough books to get a trophy for it, when my family life was changing in ways I couldn’t understand—that’s when I became a writer.
At least, that’s when I started telling people that I wanted to be a writer. It has always been the answer to the question of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Even after I grew up. I can look back now and see that I was already a writer. Not yet published, not a novelist, but a writer all the same.
This is my origin story: my teacher gave me a composition book and I never stopped writing.
The idea of an origin story has always seemed, to me at least, connected to super heroes. If I ask my students about Batman’s origin story, they get it. The concept resonates no matter what examples we might use, though.
It isn’t until I ask them to write their own origin stories that they really think about the ways their past and present smash together, connected in ways that they may not have considered before.
In talking about origin stories, Jeannine Ouellette of the fabulous Writing in the Dark, refers to our “Source waters”: “Source water is teeming with old, old stories, decomposed stories, perfectly preserved stories, haunted stories, misleading stories, life-saving stories, all sodden and slick with the algae that flourishes in the deepest recesses of this amniotic place where our ancient myths swim. And although some of the old stories are surely distorted and incomplete, even these are still (and perhaps especially) worthy of our curiosity.”
In my case, a kid that wants to be a writer must have stories to tell and no voice or outlet—yet—to tell them. That is part of my source water, marbled composition book and all. But I also think that as I started to love words and sentences and paragraphs, seeing how they came together to make a book, I must have thought, “Hey, I can do that.” It was like I could see what the author was creating—all those descriptions, all that weaving of plot—and I wanted to be the one creating it, too.
That seven-year-old version of me with big dreams and a need to tell stories has never left. Publishing my own novel and making a career of my writing is still what I feel I was put on this planet to do.
It’s been on my mind, you see. I’m still nourishing my dreams each day, waking up at 5 A.M. to write, digesting rejections that appear in my inbox, refreshing my messages, and staring at my phone while I wait and wait and wait.
The good thing about origin stories are that they don’t have to end. We keep going and our stories change with us.
Mourning Pages
This month’s Mourning Pages prompt asks you to consider your own origin story (not to be confused with a birth story) and delve into your own source waters, as Ouellette says.
Write about the when and how and where of you becoming you. Which also means, of course, that you are writing about what makes you who you are.
I encourage you to consider small moments and concrete details, as well as the big moments and the broader scope of your story. But really, just start writing and see where it takes you.
A few flavors of origin stories as examples:
“Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon (the ultimate example, used as a template for so many “I am From” poems)
Saaed Jones on “Finding a Sense of Self in New York City” (but also, look up “Goodbye to All That” by Joan Didion)
“White Angel” by Michael Cunningham (a favorite short story that, to me, feels very much like it could be someone’s origin story)
Take breaks if needed and be gentle with the process. Unless it all comes pouring out of you. In that case, keep going. Fast.
Let me know how it goes.
Here’s my usual plea to become a paid subscriber to Mourning Pages if you haven’t already. I have some exciting updates and changes coming in the new year, for paid subscribers in particular.
Your subscriptions are appreciated more than you know and they mean that I can keep writing here.
Thank you, friends! I still have to share my favorite books of the year. The list is coming soon.
I also had a teacher put a composition notebook in my hands when I was a kid, and it changed everything. There should be medals for those teachers. Medals!
Oooo you've got the wheels turning over here! Thank you, Penny!