Two years from Hello World!
I seem to have been caught in the maze of life yet again. My writing average this month has been at an all time low and I'm trying to find out why. :P Interestingly enough, tomorrow happens to mark two years since I started writing on this blog. Time to reflect and analyze, I thought. In other words, I'm staring at the odds and ends that constitute my writing and questioning if they're good enough. If there's really any sense in continuing to do this. If I'm really getting better at writing.
I happened to be reading an answer on Quora just this morning, one which went something like "What does it feel to suck at writing?". Weirdly, one of the answers happened to be from a writer I follow and look up to a great deal. Her answer scared me, because what she essentially said was this: "It doesn't feel like anything, because you wouldn't know that you suck. It is only in retrospect, when you have gotten much better, that you do realize that fact, and cringe". In fact, let me go ahead and quote her, since I'm not very sure I'm good at paraphrasing either:P:
Like I already said, it doesn't feel like anything at all to be bad at writing. Guess why? Because rarely do bad writers know that they are bad at writing, or how bad they are at writing. It is only after they have improved that they look back at the previous works and feel like murdering themselves with the nib of a pen. Yes, when realization strikes, the feeling is a generous mixture of embarrassment, self-loathing, cynicism, under-confidence, inferiority complex and whatnot. The feeling is quite similar to what a traveler in a barren, lifeless desert feels on getting to know that the lake he had happily decided as his destination was actually just a mirage. It's a very similar feeling, except that the mirage in this case is your own reflection. Which is even worse.
To further her point, she lies down as evidence her own first few blog posts(which I had not read till today) and her current writing(which I am quite familiar with and worship with the aspiring eyes of wanting to be there someday). And boy, the contrast is so evident. Her writing has evolved so very much that I can barely believe the two sets were written by the same person.
Now, this makes me scrutinize my own writing: Have I gotten better? Yes, undoubtedly. I cringe at the first few things I have written, and in comparison, the recent ones seem somewhat palatable. Yet, I don't see a drastic change. Maybe two years is too little for that? Also, I am not proud of whatever I currently write. I still think a lot before hitting that publish button, and sometimes when I am not really convinced, my articles remain unpublished dusty and rusty drafts forever.
Why is it that I write then? Because I want to. As simple and unruffled as that. I don't know if it adds value to the world. I don't know if someone reads these articles and relates to them. I don't know if I have something original to say, and a voice unique enough to give it a hitherto unheard of articulation. These are definitely things that I would aspire and hope for my writing, but even if all of that was taken away, I would still write. I write for myself. Maybe this doesn't make sense to you. But think of it this way: If I asked you 'why do you breathe?' what would you say? Duh. Because. That's just it. This is something that I don't even question. I write just as the water flows down the gradient. Not that my writing is effortless or smooth or any of that, but just that it feels that natural. :)
Happy two years, my blog! May there be many more to come.
I happened to be reading an answer on Quora just this morning, one which went something like "What does it feel to suck at writing?". Weirdly, one of the answers happened to be from a writer I follow and look up to a great deal. Her answer scared me, because what she essentially said was this: "It doesn't feel like anything, because you wouldn't know that you suck. It is only in retrospect, when you have gotten much better, that you do realize that fact, and cringe". In fact, let me go ahead and quote her, since I'm not very sure I'm good at paraphrasing either:P:
Like I already said, it doesn't feel like anything at all to be bad at writing. Guess why? Because rarely do bad writers know that they are bad at writing, or how bad they are at writing. It is only after they have improved that they look back at the previous works and feel like murdering themselves with the nib of a pen. Yes, when realization strikes, the feeling is a generous mixture of embarrassment, self-loathing, cynicism, under-confidence, inferiority complex and whatnot. The feeling is quite similar to what a traveler in a barren, lifeless desert feels on getting to know that the lake he had happily decided as his destination was actually just a mirage. It's a very similar feeling, except that the mirage in this case is your own reflection. Which is even worse.
To further her point, she lies down as evidence her own first few blog posts(which I had not read till today) and her current writing(which I am quite familiar with and worship with the aspiring eyes of wanting to be there someday). And boy, the contrast is so evident. Her writing has evolved so very much that I can barely believe the two sets were written by the same person.
Now, this makes me scrutinize my own writing: Have I gotten better? Yes, undoubtedly. I cringe at the first few things I have written, and in comparison, the recent ones seem somewhat palatable. Yet, I don't see a drastic change. Maybe two years is too little for that? Also, I am not proud of whatever I currently write. I still think a lot before hitting that publish button, and sometimes when I am not really convinced, my articles remain unpublished dusty and rusty drafts forever.
Why is it that I write then? Because I want to. As simple and unruffled as that. I don't know if it adds value to the world. I don't know if someone reads these articles and relates to them. I don't know if I have something original to say, and a voice unique enough to give it a hitherto unheard of articulation. These are definitely things that I would aspire and hope for my writing, but even if all of that was taken away, I would still write. I write for myself. Maybe this doesn't make sense to you. But think of it this way: If I asked you 'why do you breathe?' what would you say? Duh. Because. That's just it. This is something that I don't even question. I write just as the water flows down the gradient. Not that my writing is effortless or smooth or any of that, but just that it feels that natural. :)
Happy two years, my blog! May there be many more to come.
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