I want to be able to write more short stories, book reviews, and tips; convey more of my thoughts, feelings, and ideas. But unfortunately, my daily length of time is insufficient, ephemeral, limited.
Poems are more present on this blog because they are short forms of writings, thus I had the ability to practice the craft of writing poetry everyday, and in that way, I was able to improve my poetry skills little by little. But as far as I know, it is through writing long-forms that an aspiring writer can over time really become good at writing all types of formats, ranging from flash-fiction to essays and to the weirdest type of poems… well, at least for the autodidact, the self-learner.
Look what happened with Darcocyte. I thought that I had finished polishing the story; I personally found it good enough to sit on book shelves… but here I am, after one year that I’ve self-published it, re-editing all the grammatical errors that I now see mysteriously.
I don’t think that I would have skilled up my writing techniques if I hadn’t written Darcocyte. I am still on the phase of learning the techniques of creative writing, of conveying my thoughts properly, of writing as I wish to. But to write as I wish to, I need to know the rules as to be able to break them down properly, so as to acquire my own style of writing in English, for the reader’s mind hasn’t been trained to make sense of the nonsense. Thus my wish to be more exotic, but always working hand in hand with grammar rules and syntaxes.
But you have to practice a lot, and also read a lot; write and read, read and write, write and edit, edit and write, re-read revise and re-write, and my time is limited. I have to keep up with so many things.
As my children are on holidays, I am able, for only this whole month of December, to elope for some hours, to steal bits of my precious time so as to be able to write and practice more, and to get better at editing my own writings (until, I hope, one day I might be able to afford one).
Before the outbreak of the pandemic, I had enough time to write books, blog, be present on social media, learn, and in between manage my house chores; but after the pandemic everything changed. I lack time.
It’s hard for me to keep up with a daily writing routine, just as I did before - but I feel so low and without purpose on days where I haven’t been able to write, that I have decided despite everything to continue writing everyday, even if it’s one sentence, or even one little word, something, for time seems to slow down for me, as I have found my passion, my purpose, my happy place. And no matter how long it takes to get there, I know that in this space of mine, time stands still when I do the things that I am passionate about.
P.S: if you have any type of critic concerning this post - whether it concerns my writing style, grammar errors, or word mistakes, please don’t hesitate to comment about it. Thank you, and have a beautiful Sunday.
