I don’t have many memories of writing fiction during school. One of my limited experiences doing so was writing Halloween stories in eighth grade.
My story was about a teen witch who goes to a “normal” school but belongs to a secret society of magicals. Her best friend was a werewolf. There was a bully who was secretly a witch and prejudiced against other magical creatures. The story involved the main character and her friend confronting the bully. I wish I remembered more specifics than that, but I don’t. As far as I’m aware, I had a copy of the story for several years, but it’s disappeared since then. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to read it.
But the idea of it stuck around in my head, and it morphed into what The Society currently is. That main character (who had a different name then) morphed into Ledia. The werewolf best friend became Devon, and I added other best friends as well. Believe it or not, that bully morphed into Huritt. If you were handed the original story and the current one, you wouldn’t be able to tell. Not without following my own thought process to reach this point.
Instead of being a normal member of this society, Ledia’s dad became the leader. A larger conflict developed and that too has had a thousand different incarnations sense. For just about every change of the conflict, Huritt changed too.
It’s hard to put into list all the various versions there have been both in my head and on paper. I don’t think that even I can remember them all. It started off light-hearted, despite the bully, and has gone back and forth between dark and light. The characters have changed and grown, and in many ways, have become a huge part of my brain. When I say the story has had many different versions, part of that is because I think up more little stories about the characters (that may or may not relate back to the actual story) all the time.
For more than seven years now, this story has been on my mind a lot. The characters have had adventures in my head that will never be written down. The story has morphed so many times that not even I can keep straight what’s in what version sometimes.
The Society isn’t the first story I’ve ever written. It wasn’t the first short story, and it wasn’t the first “novel” either. The Society was still percolating in my brain back then. However, The Society has taken up more brain space for me than anything else ever has. It’s difficult to explain it because it’s always on my mind, and it’s changing all the time.