Lately I've been trying too hard to write. I've been adamantly searching for the next "higher" level of my writing. Eventually I cooked up a pressure so high that it strangulated my thought process. I was unable to write and sometimes even unable to think.
Writing is a process with an extraordinary output yet the simplicity of the inputs leaves me dumbfounded. To simplify the process for my own convenience; a haphazard assortment of thoughts, inspiration, real events, language goes into one end and out comes a coherent chain of words which have the power to bring out human emotions from the farthest of corners.
To draw a crude analogy, life behaves in a similar way as well. In goes all the marvelous capabilities, human sensitivities, inherent flaws, unwanted prejudices and out comes life; pure power capable of some of the most wonderfully divine things in this world.
However like writing we sometimes strive too hard to live. The search for the next level of living; of unknown state but supposedly made up of a "better" me. The desire to write something special sometimes blinds me to the simple ideas that have the potential to be beautiful. In life the desire to be special overwhelms all other desires/necessities and sadly the "me" ends up overburdened by the falsified image it has to maintain to survive.
The cure for this pressure is to trust the process and write the "ordinary". For the moment believe in the "ordinary" and persist with it. So I'll not judge my writing beforehand but let it be out there. After all, all writings deserved to be created and there is always an audience to appreciate it.
Writing is a process with an extraordinary output yet the simplicity of the inputs leaves me dumbfounded. To simplify the process for my own convenience; a haphazard assortment of thoughts, inspiration, real events, language goes into one end and out comes a coherent chain of words which have the power to bring out human emotions from the farthest of corners.
To draw a crude analogy, life behaves in a similar way as well. In goes all the marvelous capabilities, human sensitivities, inherent flaws, unwanted prejudices and out comes life; pure power capable of some of the most wonderfully divine things in this world.
However like writing we sometimes strive too hard to live. The search for the next level of living; of unknown state but supposedly made up of a "better" me. The desire to write something special sometimes blinds me to the simple ideas that have the potential to be beautiful. In life the desire to be special overwhelms all other desires/necessities and sadly the "me" ends up overburdened by the falsified image it has to maintain to survive.
The cure for this pressure is to trust the process and write the "ordinary". For the moment believe in the "ordinary" and persist with it. So I'll not judge my writing beforehand but let it be out there. After all, all writings deserved to be created and there is always an audience to appreciate it.
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