Tuesday. 14.08.2018: I realised this morning that, just this year, I wrote about 300 articles and small posts. And a novel. And it feels good. Not necessarily the number, but to see that I put in the work. Today I thought I try to bring up the mess in my head on paper:
3 years ago I had a dream of being a writer. Afraid of running out of ideas I used to spare them. Posting once a month. And then once every 2 months. I had many ideas lined up to write about – but the right moment never came.
“I need to be older, wiser, need better grammar, more study.” And so I did a lot of other things, hoping that one day the perfect time to start will come.
It seems that something shifted in me last year. Where I realised that in order to be a writer, I may have to consider to actually sit down and write.
Since then I’ve written daily. Posted daily. A fearful experience at first.
I believe every piece is very personal – and in a way – every artist who exposes himself to the world has to embrace some sort of trust in himself. Self expression is indeed a vulnerable act. One that scared me to death.
Yet facing that fear every day had somehow cleared a channel. I found that – especially on days of self-doubt and writers-block (aka self-expression block) “doing it anyways”, despite the fear, had somehow strengthened the trust I have in myself.
Quite a good thing to have, I think.
What lasted from the fear of “not having enough ideas”: Well…
It would be hard for me to write a list with 300 topics to write about. Yet, somehow they arised. Why?
To summarize my experience so far (as a young man who just tries to explore); the daily act of blogging, helped me to open my eyes to the nuances of the world and brought me to the recognition, which I believe we all have already experienced as kids: There’s always something to be astonished about.
Sometimes to do what we love appears like stepping into a long dark tunnel without a light at the end. And the first few moments are most tempting to return back, exit the tunnel, back to the world we know.
Perhaps a tunnel isn’t a strong metaphor for what I want to say and still, I believe that facing the “darkness”, the adventure is somehow worth it.
At least for me.
What counts: To start. To create something. Just something. What it is, may not even be of matter.
I feel I get better, I learn – holy cow I learn (!), and grow. And sometimes I surprise myself.
Compared to the old grumpy novelists I’m just learning to walk. But how cool it is to learn how to walk…
Thank you for reading 🙂