I don't remember the last time I sat down to write. It makes things all the more ironic. Because I named the website 'Then She Wrote More' and then never wrote anything at all.
But aren't we all paradoxes? A bunch of hypocrites. While our brain is constantly trying to match our actions with our words.
I refrained from calling myself a writer. I believed that to be called a writer would mean to professionally write. To be paid for it. Technically speaking, that would be the correct understanding. But a more philosophical take - if you write, you are a writer. Sounds consoling, almost pacifying notion in your head that you are a writer even if you did not struggle to be one.
What does it mean to write? What does it mean to put pen to paper, literally?
Would I call myself a writer if I simply submitted my attendance to my laptop and tap away at the keyboard and ran my mouth about stringing a few words?
Is it enough that I do my due diligence? Is it enough if all you did was write for yourself and addressed yourself as a writer?
There is more to it. There are so many questions in my head while I type this out.
Do you have that little voice in your head? A running commentary on everything you see, hear, and speak?
A little voice. We all seem to have a commentator in our heads. A disobedience commentator who shines in all its glory at the most inconvenient times. A fireball of ideas when you have no notepad or phone to write it all down.
Do you drown in it or does it float you to safe shores?
What do you do when you see that voice die bit by bit and you start to forget who you were?
How old were you when you started hearing your thoughts? How old were you when it started to hurt? Where were looking? What were you looking for?
And then, you dive into the endless cycle of thinking.
So, did you pay your due diligence today?
Comments