I’ve never published my writings. Often, my mother used to tell me — “You know, you should write.” It used to get me super-annoyed! My mind used to scream — “How does She know about my writings? Is she secretly reading my notebooks? Is she making fun of me?”
Then I realized, “It’s because all of my English teacher’s from grade-school said I was brilliant at Creative Writing. Like, what does that even mean? How can you not be a creative writer? You’re literally creating the writing!”
I’m kidding of course — I am fully aware of what it means, and yes I did find the time to write about my own preferred topic in essay class and then proceeded to write out three more during the same class for some of my 'lazier' friends. But it was quite fun for me, firstly, because I always liked making shit up, and also, I read story-books All The Time when I was a kid, so naturally, my head was always full of words and metaphors and names of made-up characters.
This doesn’t prove anything. I no longer read anything but #medium and biographies (and autobiographies) and therefore, I hardly ever write.
Many friends (and multiple psychologists) have suggested to me that keeping a journal really helps one to ground themselves. I tried it for a little while. I would stare at the page and write out Dear Diary and underline it three times every time. And then, nothing else. How was my day? Good. How’s things. Fuckin’ Great. How do I feel? Just fine, thanks.
I dated the pages, hoping it would be more concrete somehow. Still No cigar. I’d usually ended up writing out lists of songs I want to sing. Or learn to sing. At least, try.
See, I fancied myself a singer and a songwriter. A lyricist! Perhaps someday, even a poet! But I could never comprehend envisioning novels like #ChuckPalaniak 's Fight Club or be homeless and get drunk in a bar, then write down a Harry Potter like Ms. #JKRowling
And so, time wore on and I never wrote, not articles because damn, I can #google just about anything and find an article about it, so what the hell use is me writing about it again going to accomplish?
However, ever so often, I’d be in the loo and think about a statement, or someone else’s writing, and I’d think “Maybe I should write about this.”
I’m not being a medium #fanboy but ive always really enjoyed dark mode and this white text on black background, but this platform along with the people that are #following me (like, what are they even reading my articles for, are they just clicking follow by mistake? Yes, please validate me ) on here made me think I could actually connect to other like-minded human beings, who are complete strangers all over the world on topics covering the entire universe and the great beyond. Until I read so many people’s thoughts, and honestly, many were quite enjoyable, I never thought me just typing away aimlessly at my laptop could be someone’s five minute respite from their daily dull grinds. So I went ahead and looked up articles with writing and publishing advice on medium and man, was it overwhelming. Everyone’s all about monetising blogs and creating publications and talking about how you should stick to a niche and never venture out in case you get lost in the torrential trash-heap that is the internet. I backed off. Who wants to go through all that? It sounds like a tiring, pointless race with no end goal.
The reason I decided to publish my writing today is because I downloaded medium on to my phone and saw the + button. I know some of you are rolling your eyes right now, but read on, there’s more to it.
I also decided to publish my writing because today, my mother told me she wishes she could write about her mother. Whom, unfortunately, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. She told me she wishes she knew more about her mom. And also, she mentioned quietly looking at her hands folded on her lap — “I can’t write”.
She is a Bengali language teacher at the very same school I attended. For more than 20 years, she has been teaching children to write out sentences and spell correctly. Today, she cannot pour out her words on to paper because she is not from a generation where she can just type stuff out and publish it with a click. She is serious about these things. This was about two hours ago. Also, today afternoon I visited a friend and accidentally witnessed her clinging to her grandmother, who was upset and crying about a recent death in the family. I was embarrassed but also, a little jealous.
Lastly, I realize of course, that I’ve already published multiple articles already, but you’ll notice that those are all about musicians. This is the first article where I decided to publish my thoughts as they come.
I enjoy #stream-of-consciousness writing like #Proust and one of my favourite storyteller is #Gabriel-Garcia-Marquez. I’m super lazy about editing but hey, fuck it.
I’m not gonna sit around and not write till I make myself believe I can’t.
Hmm. Wow this turned out to be my longest piece ever! Damn. One last reason — I’m writing to be able to communicate my thoughts directly,flaws and mistakes and all. I’m through looking for perfection, striving to be different than others, whining about nothing getting done while I do exactly nothing. It’s gotta be now and it’s gonna be great, I think. Really hoping you guys will leave your own thoughts about my writings so I feel like it’s worth something after all. Don’t just clap and disappear on me! Bring the hurt, bare bones, bloody and brutal.
I hope to achieve something by doing this, but I’m not exactly sure what. I just graduated recently and will have to become a slave to some corporation and hope to eventually become the highest paid slave-driver.
