World in my eyes
I am now three blog post away from my initial goal, two if I don’t count this one – 300 published writings before 2019 hits in. This gives me actually only three days left in this year for writing.
When I started the #therapythroughwriting challenge, I wanted to bring structure to my creativity, a bit of discipline and most importantly shaping short stories in a coherent manner. Some 40 posts later I can’t help but think that this is only the beginning.
Here he was at his favourite bookstore with a coffee shop in it. A cup of chai tea latte, his laptop covered with stickers and music in his ears. Nothing fancy, just a struggling artist.
Nothing out of the ordinary, really, another writer with utterly unimpressive work, which he rightly labels as “absolute bullocks keeping me at peace”. A cliche of a sort, one would say – aren’t all untalented struggling writers seeking for a coffee shop to sit in all day long and write about things nobody wants to read about?
He is right. He knows it. He has been doing this for years. And apart from his immediate family, a few close friends and on average 23.7 people read his short stories or essays. He will never write a whole book, a novel pretty much like Salinger’s Catcher In The Rye. And that’s ok.
Writing is something I have enjoyed for the better part of my life. For a reason or two (or perhaps a thousand other excuses), I have not had the time to go after it in the past couple of years.
Never mind that, I have decided that I need to write as part of me trying to bring a bit of a structure to my life. Oh, and also for therapeutical reasons. My daily routine has gone haywire in the past few months. And for someone exhibiting OCD symptoms, this is not exactly a pleasant experience.
