There are stories that have to be wrestled from the pen, or in my case from the keyboard. And then there are those that flow onto the page. They are so easy they almost seem to write themselves. The Legend of Hobart was the easy kind. The character appeared in my mind complete with an unfortunate name, a history of being bullied and a deep desire to be a knight. By his reasoning, people would be less likely to bother someone who was skilled with a sword. I had a character, complete with voice, and a goal. The conflict and ensuing plot were easy to extrapolate from there. During the drafting process, I went back and rewrote the opening a few times, but most of the story came together with very little effort. At the time, I wished they could all be this easy.
But the truth is, I don’t learn much from the easy ones. And I certainly don’t grow as a writer. Writing is like life. We grow in the struggles. Because struggles force us to look at things from a new perspective, to consider new questions, and learn new skills.
So while I appreciate the occasional Hobart, I know that if I want to develop as a writer, I have to be willing to stretch myself beyond what’s easy and wrestle with what’s difficult and new. Most of what I try doesn’t work the first time. But I learn more from my failures and my struggles than I ever could from what comes easily.