just an update
This has been time that’s more like a pond than a stream. Only, in my case, it’s been that sort of a pond that is rumored to have an abyss in its bottom, or a sunken castle, or both. I have thought much, learned much about myself, and by sheer thinking about who am I and what am I made of, I’ve uprooted the writing nerve and made it so raw I can barely touch it. Everything I’ve written seems to be so egocentric, and obvious, and irrelevant, and alien at the same time. No wonder I haven’t been able to produce new words, except those I write at the day job.
Of course, this is going to pass as soon as I realize that my writing isn’t about me. Well, it is about “me” as the deep and ever-changing thing that I am; but it’s not about “me” as I think of myself in everyday life.
Writing isn’t about “writing what you know”. Writing is “writing what you hadn’t realized before”. Since I’m so keen on realizing things right now–and my thoughts move faster than my stories do–I seem to do most of the self-revelations by thinking, not by writing. Robbing myself of the mystery and the miracle that is writing.
I won’t spend long in this beautiful castle of thinking about myself, basically because it gets really boring after a while. The good stuff is that what glitters dimly through the blue-green waters of the pond, peers through the weeds and the algae. As soon as you drag it out, clean it, examine and define it… it becomes a museum stuff, and a museum of me isn’t as exciting as I assumed it could be.
So yeah. I’ll be back in the game. I hope it’ll be soon.
