Nowadays when I write something, I hate that the first thing that comes to my mind is - for whom? For who am I writing this? Maybe I can withhold this piece and submit it for work. Maybe I can make a twitter joke out of it. Maybe I'll store it away for that book I'm writing. Or was writing. I'm not entirely sure anymore. Or maybe I'll update my blog with it today. But write it for free? Who will pay me for it? What if it becomes my star blog and someone steals it and makes a best seller out of it? Or worse, maybe it actually does turn out good and then I wont be able to use it anywhere again, ever.
By now I've lost my idea. I don't even want to write anything.
This is a game I'm severely and drastically losing at. And then I'm devastated because suddenly I can't write. I miss the old days where I used to blog all the time and I didn't know who was reading it, or if its even being read. And I never got paid for anything. So I wrote everything with all my heart, just exactly like I felt it. This was my place to write. This was the only place to write. And it was beautiful. I loved it. Maybe only ten people ever followed my blog but for some reason that was so much more satisfying than a thousand people on twitter reading every word I write.
Its hard, this struggle.
Sometimes I think I would have been a better writer if I weren't a writer. Or say, if I was in insurance sales. Or cupcakes. Anything. Maybe I would've treated the written word a little more non-committal-y than I do today.
It's also insecurity, I realize.
What if I never have an idea this good ever again. Let me think about this a little more. Let me not give it a fleeting existence on twitter. Let me not give it a chance to breathe. Let me strangle it, juice it, suffocate it with mindless, incessant over analysis and condense it into a vague, bulleted, left aligned iphone note. In stuttered, nonsensical, short sentences until I forget about it, don't understand what I was trying to say with it, and one day, delete it.
I guess I can publish this post. Nobody will pay for this crap. Except, maybe, in a magazine meant for writers. Oh, that's an idea! Shhhhhhhh.
By now I've lost my idea. I don't even want to write anything.
This is a game I'm severely and drastically losing at. And then I'm devastated because suddenly I can't write. I miss the old days where I used to blog all the time and I didn't know who was reading it, or if its even being read. And I never got paid for anything. So I wrote everything with all my heart, just exactly like I felt it. This was my place to write. This was the only place to write. And it was beautiful. I loved it. Maybe only ten people ever followed my blog but for some reason that was so much more satisfying than a thousand people on twitter reading every word I write.
Its hard, this struggle.
Sometimes I think I would have been a better writer if I weren't a writer. Or say, if I was in insurance sales. Or cupcakes. Anything. Maybe I would've treated the written word a little more non-committal-y than I do today.
It's also insecurity, I realize.
What if I never have an idea this good ever again. Let me think about this a little more. Let me not give it a fleeting existence on twitter. Let me not give it a chance to breathe. Let me strangle it, juice it, suffocate it with mindless, incessant over analysis and condense it into a vague, bulleted, left aligned iphone note. In stuttered, nonsensical, short sentences until I forget about it, don't understand what I was trying to say with it, and one day, delete it.
I guess I can publish this post. Nobody will pay for this crap. Except, maybe, in a magazine meant for writers. Oh, that's an idea! Shhhhhhhh.
3 comments:
This blog is what I know about you. We keep coming here to read you, every time you write. In between, you were being missed as well. So even if for 10 odd people, your presence is felt & missed here.
So keep writing, we won't be able to pay you though!
Nainy! Nainy!
Welcome back! :)
And yes, we still follow you more here than anywhere else.
Keep writing...more!
Cheers!
@Subhajit :) :)
@Divi Divi
One day after 30 years when I"ll be the (then) Hillary Clinton lady person, you will be sought after by the paparrazi for these.
(Note to Universe: conspire) :D :P
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