You'll notice when you read this piece that it's incredibly similar to Drive, and that's because they're pretty much the same thing, about the same person, with pretty much the same description. The big question now is why did I chose this piece, and why did I decide to go into detail about the writing process I went through? I chose it because it really doesn't matter how often you write something, it's still difficult to find the right words, the right phrasing, and to present the kind of emotion you want to, and I struggled immensely with doing so, so much so that I couldn't even finish the first draft:

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Stay a Little Longer: Version 1

 

From the backseat of your pickup, I memorized your silhouette

and the way your hair jolted under your hat when you nodded along to the beat of the song,

how your fingers drummed on the steering wheel, how your lips curved with the words.

I don’t know if you could tell behind my sunglasses, but my eyes didn’t—couldn’t—leave you.

And when the city roads turned to country roads and you went 80 in a 55, crying “Adventure!”

man, that’s really when I fell in love with you.

The tobacco fields I found so mesmerizing faded and paled into green blurs behind you,

the humid May air becoming an afterthought.

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I know the big rule is to keep going, no matter what. Just keep writing until the first draft is done, and then go back and fix things. I would have done that if I hadn't run out of words and descriptions. Quite honestly, for a while I was on a roll with the whole writing thing until I got to this last portfolio check. Then I sort of fizzled out. I couldn't think of anything to write other than about a drive, about the country, and it didn't help that I had this strange, large crush on this one person, which only solidified my inability to write about anything other than anything related to the country and the South. And because of that strange crush, everything I wrote was lovey and cliche, like for real cliche this time (as you can see). But nevertheless, I persevered and tried again after 4 days of mulling over how I could wrap up the piece. 

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Stay a Little Longer: Version 2

 

From the backseat of your pickup, I memorized your silhouette

and the way your hair jolted under your hat when you nodded along to the beat of the song,

how your fingers drummed on the steering wheel, how your lips curved with the words.

I don’t know if you could tell behind my sunglasses, but my eyes didn’t—couldn’t—leave you.

And when the city roads turned to country roads and you went 80 in a 55, crying “Adventure!”

man, that’s really when I fell in love.

The tobacco fields I found so mesmerizing faded and paled into green blurs behind you,

the yelled-out lyrics of old Macklemore songs becoming the only sound I ever wanted to hear.

When the sun turned from yellow to tangerine, we had to figure out how to get un-lost again.

 

On my way to church this Sunday, the song you played air guitar to came on the radio,

and I realized how much I missed your voice and the goofy way you smile,

and I wished you really could have stayed a little longer.

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Usually when I get stuck, I start over, but I was so emotionally attached to this piece, I guess I couldn't really do it, though for a time I did try (I just deleted the lines, only to write the same thing, the same way two days later). Sometimes you're allowed to write things just to write them, though they may not be the best or even good at all and are definitely cliche, and I think around this second draft is where I decided that this piece was a piece just for me. It didn't matter that it was bad and seemingly unfixable. It didn't even matter that it was sort of choppy and didn't really feel that conclusive. 

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I could have left it like it is, but I decided to keep going because I still wanted it to have a resolution and feel complete despite it's sole significance being for my own enjoyment. I ended up adding a bit more detail, which seems entirely unconnected to anything else in this piece though it makes sense to me. I realize now it's because the piece follows no logical progression; it doesn't go in chronological order like it should. Instead the piece jumps around, but quite honestly I like it, and I like the detail in it. And since this piece is the piece I wrote just for me, that's all that really matters.

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Stay a Little Longer: Version 3 

 

From the backseat of your pickup, I memorized your silhouette

and the way your hair jolted under your hat when you nodded along to the beat of the song,

how your fingers drummed on the steering wheel, how your lips curved with the words.

I don’t know if you could tell behind my sunglasses, but my eyes didn’t—couldn’t—leave you.

And when the city roads turned to country roads and you went 80 in a 55, yelling “Adventure!”

man, that’s really when I fell in love.

The tobacco fields I found so mesmerizing faded and paled into green blurs behind you,

the yelled-out lyrics of old Macklemore songs becoming the only sound I ever wanted to hear.

You laughed when the physics trick you saw online failed, and the pennies held on your fingertips

by the wind and the force of your momentum fell to the pavement beside the truck.

And when the sun turned from yellow to tangerine, we had to figure out how to get un-lost again,

how to go north and west to get back home.

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On my way to church this Sunday, the song you played air guitar to came on the radio,

and I realized how much I missed your voice and the goofy way you smile,

and I wished you really could have stayed just a little longer.