The Wait for Words
I attended this writing workshop today.
I stare at the sky, my eyes searching for the moon. My eyes fall back to the stars as my quest for the moon on a new moon day was indeed in vain. A military prop plane flies above watching over the skies. Make it two. An airliner approaches to land on the western horizon. Is that how freedom feels like? Could they see the moon from up there?
I attended this writing workshop today. Not going into the specifics but I found myself surrounded by a number of writers for whom writing meant a number of different things. It was an interactive session where I heard many say why they wrote. Some said it was a medium of expression, discovery, therapy, or even for the joy of writing.
Although I don't consider myself to be an expert blogger, I do feel like there are various events that could happen regarding writing for an audience as opposed to writing for yourself.
Just going to list out some ideas which I learnt today and from personal experiences.
Stereotypes
Let me picture in words an image of how a writer is supposed like, at least by my native standards.
Middle aged man, worryingly long facial hair, glasses, wearing a tote bag, coughing up rings of smoke while mumbling out of the world sentences.
One need not fit the above description to be a writer. Anyone with a pen and paper could be one. All you have to do is write write and write. Be it something as simple as the butterfly in your backyard or the attempt to capture the feeling of having your favourite ice cream. Being yourself is key be it in personal writings or with a larger audience.
Writing Practices
Now it still surprises me to think that Dostoevsky's crippling gambling addiction could have played a role in his creation of art, well at least to pay off his creditors. What makes me want to write? What makes anyone want to write.
When I read the books of Roald Dahl, few pages are dedicated to the author showing his little cabin with the yellow door where he would write and write. I have always wanted a cozy little cabin ever since I've seen it.
Someone said today that to write they would like to listen to the same song over and over again until they get the inspiration to do so. Well it is quite the opposite for me. While I need music for anything else, even painting, writing is the only thing that seems to despise the presence of music. Point being, it's an individual journey figuring out what suits best for you in terms of writing practises.
The Little Hurdles
Writing to a crowd carries a larger weight than writing for oneself, at least for me. I stared at the screen painfully watching my heart sink and my brain shutting down for the night. That's when I decided to watch the night sky. And here I am. Sometimes I am presented with questions; Why do I write? Who gains from this? What if I couldn't write something good enough?
The journey of thoughts from the mind to the tip of the fingers to the keyboard and onto the screen is an ardous one. Waves of doubt, guilt, desperation and even withdrawal storms the journey.
But it is a journey nonetheless and one that I have survived for the day at least.
Until next time dear reader,
Alan
I stare at the sky, my eyes searching for the moon. My eyes fall back to the stars as my quest for the moon on a new moon day was indeed in vain. A military prop plane flies above watching over the skies. Make it two. An airliner approaches to land on the western horizon. Is that how freedom feels like? Could they see the moon from up there?
I attended this writing workshop today. Not going into the specifics but I found myself surrounded by a number of writers for whom writing meant a number of different things. It was an interactive session where I heard many say why they wrote. Some said it was a medium of expression, discovery, therapy, or even for the joy of writing.
Although I don't consider myself to be an expert blogger, I do feel like there are various events that could happen regarding writing for an audience as opposed to writing for yourself.
Just going to list out some ideas which I learnt today and from personal experiences.
Stereotypes
Let me picture in words an image of how a writer is supposed like, at least by my native standards.
Middle aged man, worryingly long facial hair, glasses, wearing a tote bag, coughing up rings of smoke while mumbling out of the world sentences.
One need not fit the above description to be a writer. Anyone with a pen and paper could be one. All you have to do is write write and write. Be it something as simple as the butterfly in your backyard or the attempt to capture the feeling of having your favourite ice cream. Being yourself is key be it in personal writings or with a larger audience.
Writing Practices
Now it still surprises me to think that Dostoevsky's crippling gambling addiction could have played a role in his creation of art, well at least to pay off his creditors. What makes me want to write? What makes anyone want to write.
When I read the books of Roald Dahl, few pages are dedicated to the author showing his little cabin with the yellow door where he would write and write. I have always wanted a cozy little cabin ever since I've seen it.
Someone said today that to write they would like to listen to the same song over and over again until they get the inspiration to do so. Well it is quite the opposite for me. While I need music for anything else, even painting, writing is the only thing that seems to despise the presence of music. Point being, it's an individual journey figuring out what suits best for you in terms of writing practises.
The Little Hurdles
Writing to a crowd carries a larger weight than writing for oneself, at least for me. I stared at the screen painfully watching my heart sink and my brain shutting down for the night. That's when I decided to watch the night sky. And here I am. Sometimes I am presented with questions; Why do I write? Who gains from this? What if I couldn't write something good enough?
The journey of thoughts from the mind to the tip of the fingers to the keyboard and onto the screen is an ardous one. Waves of doubt, guilt, desperation and even withdrawal storms the journey.
But it is a journey nonetheless and one that I have survived for the day at least.
Until next time dear reader,
Alan
(Below: A picture of my college taken on my way back today)
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