You spend eighteen years of your life thinking you have some sort of a talent. Eighteen years you spend thinking that you have something that makes you above average and you are indeed gifted. You do not boast about for you have been taught not to do so, and yet there is a sense of pride within you. Whenever asked if there is something different you do, you proudly say yes you write and can do a decent job at it!
After eighteen years of believing that you have this talent, gift or whatever you may call it you suddenly realise one day that it was all something you had imagined and something you hoped you had.
That gift wasn’t ever there. You realise this when you see the several incomplete pieces of writing strewn across your house... when you see the half baked projects that never actually reached even mid way!
When this realisation comes crashing down on you, unlike yourself you are not disappointed or saddened as much as you ought to be. On the contrary, you are amused. The situation is ironic and you are amused at yourself for making a fool of yourself for eighteen years and fooling your own-self for eighteen years.
Irony increases because the only way you can express your amusing disappointment is by writing it down. May be it is the last time you are picking up a pen!
After eighteen years of believing that you have this talent, gift or whatever you may call it you suddenly realise one day that it was all something you had imagined and something you hoped you had.
That gift wasn’t ever there. You realise this when you see the several incomplete pieces of writing strewn across your house... when you see the half baked projects that never actually reached even mid way!
When this realisation comes crashing down on you, unlike yourself you are not disappointed or saddened as much as you ought to be. On the contrary, you are amused. The situation is ironic and you are amused at yourself for making a fool of yourself for eighteen years and fooling your own-self for eighteen years.
Irony increases because the only way you can express your amusing disappointment is by writing it down. May be it is the last time you are picking up a pen!
24/05/2010 – 21:55
2 comments:
and isnt that every writers plight...crumbled pieces of paper or if we look at the modern version several incomplete drafts...The writer has just one choice and that is to keep at it ...coz by being at it there comes a day when our own work becomes a motivation for us to move on...Time isnt wasted, what can be seen is but experience gained...
Well, I think it's a life long quest. To discover one's self through success and failure. Life is a journey and it is what are you becoming and while going through the various events. Sometime it may seem all so wrong, but that's a momentary truth. You don't become a writer, or musician or painter, actually you become what 'you' really are day by day. It requires hard work and consistent trial. I strongly recommend you to read "The Power of Myth" by Joseph Campbell. Hope you will find that really a very interesting and insightful conversation. Thanks!
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