A: I'm very stressed, I need a drink
V: Of course baby, I'll make it for you
A smiles
V: How much ice do you want?
A: As many cubes as you want to give me
V: Ok I'll give you two
A: Nooo, give me four
Sent from my BlackBerry®
http://inmyeye6.blogspot.com/
Thursday, March 17, 2011
So it starts here
So many times I have wondered, what was it that made me write? I never saw myself as a writer, yet like my father, I too had this little nagging bit inside me that said I should write and that I would be good at it.
It started with poetry many years ago. When I read those poems now, I can’t help but cringe. They sound so lame and childish. But then I try and remind myself, I was 13! The poems evolved as I grew older and some of the last few still make me feel very good.
At some stage blogs stepped in and thanks to being pushed by dad and a friend, I experimented with this new medium. To my surprise people started reading my blog and actually enjoyed what I wrote. Then came the days of DSS, the best bunch of writers I ever came across. I was too scared to share my stuff with them, they were all so good. But the anonymity helped. They didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know them. No danger of failure there.
Wouldn’t you know it, they liked my stuff and the appreciation I got from them was my aphrodisiac. I kept writing; it was wonderful. But like all good things, this also came to an end. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. And once I stopped, I just couldn’t write again.
What changed? Where did the motivation go? What was the motivation to start with?
Was I writing for myself or playing to the audience? Initially I thought it must be the latter and now that the forum to share my writing was gone, there was no point. But then why did I feel so bad, why did I miss it so much?
I realised that while sharing my thoughts was great fun, I wasn’t doing it for anyone but myself. Every old post of mine brings back those days to me. I remember so much more about those times; what I was doing, the things I felt, what life was like for me. It was my way of chronicling my life.
Suddenly I feel so much easier about writing again. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not. It doesn’t matter if it’s been said before or not. It doesn’t matter if it makes a point or not. It doesn’t matter if anyone enjoys it or not.
It might take me a while to get a good writing style back, but I’m ok if its not perfect. I am sure I will evolve again and I am sure I will have my readers again.
So it starts here, with this post.
Cheers all!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)