My expereince writing the longest story of my life

Writing “Finding Happiness” was not easy for me to do. Initially, I knew the story was there. I’ve known Lyndsey for a little less than a year and I’ve gotten to know her fairly well. She’s talked with me before about some of the things she’s went through in the past, but nothing to the extent of what was in the story. Knowing what I had from past conversations, she was really an inspiration to me and the possibility of writing this story was a way for me to really showcase who she is and put her story into words.

The thought of asking her to let me write this story though was nerve-wracking. Despite being good friends, she is very private, especially when it comes to her negative experiences. I nearly didn’t want to write it just based on that fact. It didn’t want this story to come between our friendship. But I knew that the story had to be written if allowed so I asked her. Surprisingly she said that she would do it.

Then the questions came. I hit her with a lot of questions. Anything from the details of the sports she played growing up to the dark memories of her days in Greensboro to her reflections on things after moving to Iowa. Some answers were obviously easy to digest, but the dark memories were difficult. They answers were difficult for her, but they were also difficult to receive. Hearing about some of her worst experiences (things related to coaches, the alcohol, the depression) and her reflections, this story really got real for me. I tried to take the friend aspect out of it, but it was impossible. I feel like if I were to write any story with the gravity of this story, I’d almost have some sense of closeness and trust with that person. The friendship that already existed made this an emotional piece. I almost couldn’t take hearing some of the answers. It was a bit intense. I didn’t know how to respond. I was left speechless at points.

When I spoke with her mother and Mary, I was able to get a better understanding of Lyndsey. They shed some light on who she is, sides that I’ve never seen. They were great additions. The phone interviews were relatively laid back. Nothing to the extent of that with Lyndsey. I was laughing more than anything. Some parts I was surprised about, but they weren’t I was never completely speechless.

When it came to the writing process, I first transcribed all of my interviews which gave me nearly 30 pages of information. I printed it all out and went about cutting each piece of information and putting things into piles. As with most stories, especially the lengthier ones, I see them as a puzzle that I have to put together. This was unlike any puzzle I’ve ever done before. It took me a couple of days to get this process done. It was actually emotionally draining. Going back and constantly reading Lyndsey’s quotes really hit me hard. I actually got to a point where I just didn’t want to write the story. I felt like I had nothing left and I couldn’t live up to my expectations or do her story justice with what I would write. But Lyndsey never gives up, so how could I give up on writing a story about her? I couldn’t. So I went along with writing it.

I began writing the story the first week of November and sporadically worked on during the following weeks. Working on it straight through was not an option. For one, the story was just too long to write like that. And two, I kept hitting points where I had to stop. The section “Three Years of Questioning” took me a long time to do because of that. Everything was hitting me emotionally it was just very difficult to write a lot at one time.
When I was finally finished writing Lyndsey’s story, I had a sense of relief that it was done. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I was amazed at what I had accomplished. It was about a month and half’s work. It was a very long process which felt good to have it done, but emotionally, it was good to have it done because I don’t think I could’ve taken much more.

I was exhausted, but felt proud of what I had written. When the final draft was a done a few weeks later, the timeline for the entire project was nearly two months. I may have worked on it sporadically throughout that time frame, but looking back, it felt like I was constantly working it. Little by little, I was always getting pieces done. I don’t think I can measure the time put into this piece in hours. I would only be able to measure in days, adding all of the hours together.

Despite all the time I put in it, the emotional drain that I went through, the utter exhaustion of writing such a lengthy story, as I gave Lyndsey the final draft tonight, her reaction was validation enough. I began writing this story for this class, but I ended up writing it for her. Since she has yet to read it, I still don’t know what to think, but her smile said it all. She was initially happy with what she saw. And that’s all that mattered.