Personal Narratives

The abandonment of a piece of writing is inconceivable to me

The abandonment of a draft is inconceivable to me, for it’s like abandoning a piece of myself; where this fear can even lead me towards obsessiveness. I don’t want to tuck away an idea that birthed out of my mind under piles of sheets and notebooks, to forget it in a dark corner, or even for that piece to remain untouched or unopened in the word processor. I want it to have a life, to have a chance to become concrete, to be touched by the heart and mind of others. Isn’t existence filled with objects, things, creatures, and beings that had the chance to exist, a chance to form part of reality? I know that I might seem too fanciful here while describing my fear of abandoning a piece of writing; but you know, creatively speaking about something isn’t at all superlative. 

Thus, I try as much as possible to not let unfinished writings sit for too long in my notebooks and word processor; I always try my best to finish them, to give them a life, to embellish them with the needed words so as for them to exist in the dimension of books and blogs. I think that’s why my mind is constantly busy with thinking and imagining, always trying to envision how the story unwinds. My head is a busy corner, an ant hill. 

Due to my fear of putting away an idea, a draft, or a piece of unfinished writing, I take time to create content, for I am unable to move on to another piece, to come up with the next story, poem, or blog post, not until I have finished the writing at hand. 

I made it a rule of thumb to finish what I have started, and this even though another idea arises in my mind, tempting me to abandon the work at hand. I try as much as possible to resist the urge to move on to the next writing project, because that next idea might as well remain in an unfinished state, and in the end, everything that I would ever get, is, an accumulation of unfinished drafts. 

I won’t tell you that my notebooks and online documents aren’t filled with unfinished writings, of scribbles scattered here and there, of jotted down words that beg to become sentences, of writings that I am too lazy to edit – nope, but most of them will form part of a bigger writing project, or will end up on this blog, or even as pieces added to my stories and poems. They are all mapped in my head and online files, and when needed, all that I will have to do is retrieve them. 

I prefer let something die in me instead of birthing it out from my mind to then afterwards let it in a state of abandonment; to toss it away and and let it die, to forget it, for, they come to haunt my dreams, insert themselves in my daydreams, and I just can’t stop thinking about them; they constantly arise in my mind. Thus the principle I’ve imposed on myself: to always finish what I have started, and this, no matter how hard it might be, or even, how much I want to work on another writing project. 

I have to constantly remind myself that it’s easy to imagine things and stories; but that to be able to concretize an abstract idea that only me can envision, and to unwind stories, poems, and my thoughts logically, in the universal language that most of us understand, I have to do the hard work of weaving my words together in a comprehensive and beautiful way. And it’s the fact that I have to go through the pain of all these re-writings that makes me want to abandon a draft that I have enthusiastically written; but then, it always happen that during the process of re-writings and re-edits, which I always think will be boring and not at all exciting for my mind, something else happens – that piece of writing always take a new shape, there is always a new passage that unfolds, which is always different from what I’ve imagined it to be. That’s how I always convince myself to finish the work, knowingly that I will end up with a different copy than that of my first draft, which in itself is a great reward for the reader that I am. 

If I had abandoned my writings, today I wouldn’t have written two books (well, though one is still at the unpublished state and the other had to be unpublished because it was filled with errors… but soon I’ll rectify everything), one of my short stories wouldn’t have been published in an anthology, and this blog would have been empty. To me, every single word, thought, sentence that comes out from my mind are worthy of being concretized and seen and read by other minds than mine – that is to say, to expand the field of this reality, while making it a little bit understandable, a little bit less boring, saved from the hands of abandonment. 

PS: as I am still learning the skill of editing effectively my own writings, all constructive criticism about this post are welcomed.

Personal Narratives

Metaphorical and Literal

The poetic genre I love

Tea-set, handwritten note, and decorative indoor flower pot
From abstraction to expression

When earth shakes, do snakes escape from its mouth, while all roots unroot from the soil? — how can I, the author of this sentence, be surprised by what I’ve written on my own… is it my natural ability to observe from another’s perception that brings me to that conclusion, or perhaps, let us be a little insane, odd, and whimsical, and let us say that it was a presence, the muse, that murmured it to my right ear.

A crack, an opening, the underground, catacombs — yes, I write semi-automatically, plunged emotionally inside the subconscious lagoon of my core. My poems are literal, where I let whatever wants to sprout out be — I just kind of express myself unconsciously. The moment I have a subject in mind — no matter what the subject might be, I go for it; I let my creativity take full possession of my being.

Should I say that I write while accessing my Random Access Memory, I don’t know! But what I do know on the other hand, is that when I write a poem, I completely abandon myself to my needs for art, and where the finished product needs to trigger the emotion of astonishment and puzzlement inside of me, like, is it really me that has written that oddity! Else, everything needs to be rewritten, for I am unsatisfied. I like to be the reader behind the eyes that has written the work, same as I would have read any other writings. I am out of my mind when I write, but back into the shell when drafting.

The seascape joins the shorelines, giving birth to an oneiric landscape – Literal, figurative, metaphorical — these are the main adjectives that I want my creative works to be described as, and where I try my best to construct my texts in the best possible way as I want them to be, and as well as I like them, always remembering the feelings felt when reading works written by other authors, whether good or bad.

When I write poems, I want the world to flow through me, for the world is a mystery, an everfloating debris of emotions. Thus, I want to write poems about everything that the world holds, wanting to be the medium through which the hatred, violence, love, romance, death, happiness, sadness, and all these emotions that have been given away to life (entity to me) incarnate themselves through the poetry I write.

Yesterday my husband and I we were discussing about a peculiar movie we like, and where both of us had different thoughts concerning the enigmatic ending of the movie, which I do think was a literal and poetic ending, opened to every kind of interpretation, the beauty of creative work. That’s when I realized that my poems too, or any other poems, could also be interpreted differently by the various type of readers, because precisely I write poems figuratively. But that’s my playground of interest — the metaphors, the flowery, the fanciful, the surreal, that’s how I fell in love with poetry, always, and that’s the degree of aesthetic that I thrive to ornate my poems with, so that readers that are fond of that genre of poetry might gain the ultimate satisfaction — at least I try to.

Being what I am, I am unable to write essays or any other serious subjects passionately, without getting bored… too detailed and prosaic for me, and where I have enormous respect for those that write these kind of intellectual articles meant for informational and educational purposes… not meant to tickle the fancy of readers, but where I would have been more than happy to have my poems being deconstructed by one of those literary critics, those thirsty for the psychology and logic behind literature. What would be the finds, the adjective of qualifications to describe what and how I write — dark, depressive, illogical, confusing, or else, I don’t know; puzzling and mystical, that’s what I would though.

Else, would I be criticized for appropriating the experience and life of others — a life snatcher, when all I ever do is trying to write with these emotions, calling them from the depth of my subconscious, drawing the ideas and inspiration from the well of my mind, and interconnecting and intertwining my own experience to that of the collective consciousness, the web of life.

Do my poems echo back emotions, the creation that’s voiceless, yet veiled with imagination? Are they movie projectors where the films display bits and pieces of what my imagination holds, though literal and surreal? Or, are the poems I write same as in dissection of a poem, a poem where elements of my own experiences sneak silently within the construction of the poetry I write. In the end, I just hope, and do my best, so that these poems I write are as literal, metaphorical, and as aesthetically pleasing to the reader’s mind, same as much as I have been conquered by this poetic genre.

Personal Narratives

Passionately Attach To What I Produce

That’s why I don’t abandon

The passion behind

Darcocyte would have been an aborted project if I had abandoned its conception. But that is where my strange anthropomorphic habits tend to save the day — looking at it as something tangible and true, one that belongs to the realm of existence — I couldn’t fail to write it. My personal interaction with objects, I think so, tend to nullify any kind of want or need to abandon that which comes from the deepness of my own core. I know that looking at things in such odd ways might not seem obvious to some — but what is obvious to the creative writer or to any other artists? I do wonder.

I tend to address a finished product of mine as my baby because I’ve conceived it from the bottom pit of my own imagination. Now, I don’t know about the other writers, but the very fact that the essence of the stories and poems that I write are born from my own imagination, make me seriously think that these are extended members that sprouted out from my own self; the invisible roots that reach out to the world, and where in my mind – again here it’s my personal way of thinking – I can’t abandon something that’s integral of my being.

I have always been the type of person who pays particular attention to my relatives – it is innate in me – and I really don’t know if it’s that particular side of me that renders me so passionately attached to what I produce as an individual, but it works all the time. And that’s what happened with Darcocyte, I just couldn’t let it down when it’s an integral part of me…

Passion is, and will always be to me, that one emotion which permits the artist to go through their work with serenity and enjoyment, and this, without any kind of reward or encouragement. It’s the passion to make my imagination concrete that fuels my determination of the before publishing level, and where after that stage, well, that’s clearly another story. But as for that part of concretizing ideas and thoughts into stories, poems, or blog posts, I am way too passionately driven to abandon their realization; too attached to these extensions of my imagination and personal experiences.

Perhaps what I might be writing here might make me seem like an arrogant; but I am so passionate about what I write that I find my own stories as being flawless🤭😅 and where I’ve even prepared a long list of answers to defend my baby novel against the worst critics, because I understand that reading exotic English writings are not the cup of tea of every readers.

Thus, to me, being passionately attached to my artwork helps me to continue hoping that one day I will be able to make money from my writings.

And what about you? Is it a passionate thing between you and your writing. Are you a passionate creative writer?

Personal Narratives

I’ve Been On Cloud Nine

Productivity & Focus

I’ve been flying on cloud nine, woolgathering all of the ideas that might make up my poetry book i-Organel Dreamscape. It was a mindscape filled of wonderment, where I’ve been meeting with all the creatures that run wildly within my dreams—those figments that make up my imagination—and expressing all of these moments in the form of the poems that I’ve been writing during these last days that I’ve been away — where in all, I’ve been able to mind-gather one hundred poems, themed surreal for my book i-Organel Dreamscape.

I’ve enjoyed every single hours spent within the realm of my deepest fantasies; my mind hooked on this new form of creating and producing; where I’ve experienced the power of productivity through isolation and total focus.

Now I understand why it took me so much time to write Darcocyte — lack of concentration and focus, due to these little online distractions (trying to get followers), and learning Internet basics (for blog optimization and understanding of digital tools).

Now I understand that I can’t do everything at the same time, for my creativity is affected in the worst possible way, through all of these hopping here and there, giving my energy for nothing. Now that I know clearly about what empowers my creativity and writing productivity; I’ve decided that each time I have to create, I’ll sneak away inside of my creative den, as to focus all of my energy on whatever I need to produce.

I have enormously thought about all of this, and I am sure that in this gigantic ant hill, I am a producing ant — for all I want to do is write my imagination away, blog, take amateurish photos and make graphics to only post on my blog, social feeds, or elsewhere; spread my ideas or thoughts, share my writer’s lifestyle, and all of the inspiring things that I like . . . that’s all I wanna do. I don’t want to spam with URLs, scroll feeds as to search and analyze those that might connect with me, or else constantly trying to grab their attention . . . no, I just want the intended audience to organically find my feed, to naturally connect with me — those that my style, mind, ways of expressions, and works appeal to; and from there, connect and do all the follow ups needed. 

For me, marketing is a very cacophonous-warlike-ungentle-guerillalike work, which surely pays off (if younger, unmarried, or was male, I would have rock this essential biZ part, believe me🤣), but it’s a very rough route that drains all of my energy and renders my brain completely dried out of its creative juice, while frustrations and dramas arise from deep thinking about how to attract social medias followers or readers to my blog. And at this stage of my life, I prefer channel my energy into thinking about what to create for my blog, or what to write, or even continue my learning . . . instead of focusing on running after readers or followers. And as this whole thing is too difficult to do all alone, I will have to mastermind a new plan to integrate to my new master plan . . . but what’s for sure, is that I am not quitting the WebSphere, for It’s too addictive and too futuristic, especially right now..

Well, about Amazon, it has not at all been fruitful for me . . . I’ve been completely wrong. Will have to search for new ways of selling my works.

My heart is very heavy, but its okay…

So, thank you very much to the only one that has bought my book . . . I’ve got only 40 cents (still retained), loll (strange, when I had signed for 30 percent of the money and not 20 percent), but again, its okay…

Personal Narratives

How The Completion Of Darcocyte Happened

From then till now

Not all those who wander are lost;
— Tolkien

  • It all started on Pinterest. Yes . . . Six or seven years ago I was introduced to this platform by Xu_Ann_the_3rd, my lil’ sister; and since then, I’ve been contaminated with the virus of creativity, DIY, and everything aesthetic. All of these creative feeds, sites, and as well as their users, inspired me till the inner core of my being to dare and be. Back then, I was pinning everyday and all day, busy checking all the boards of these interesting personas who inspired me so much. In the end, I had finally been able to find those, whose minds talk same as mine.
  • Because during this period of my life, I didn’t know what I wanted to embrace as new career, I was often on other digital platforms, experiencing with chatting or any other forms of online activities that would have led me towards a stay@home job.
  • Meanwhile, I opened an account on a writing app (which I don’t remember the name), and from there, I started to write short stories, amongst which the story of a cockroach in love with a girl rekindled my imagination that I thought I had long lost.
  • Then came the chapter, there where I created my first blog, lovelyricism. On this platform, I was able to hone my skills through writing and submitting to their everyday writing prompts page; swimming towards progress into their lagoon of precious tips, amidst a community of talented writers and bloggers. And that’s where, during that same period of writing everyday, that the first sentence idea for Darcocyte appeared in my mind — “Don’t go ploughing the infertile land my little girl, the man in the vessel will try to lure you…”
  • I started to write on microsoft word (software key that was included with the buying of my first laptop), alongside other little drafts and scribblings done here and there — all lost during a malware infection that wormed its way inside of my former laptop, rendering it completely obsolete. Fortunately I had the daily habit of saving Darcocyte on a USB key. Since then, I fell inside the dark pit of paranoia, suspecting almost everyone to be scammers and malevolent hackers. I should have stopped right there, but there was something screaming out in me to continue my way, for in the end, everything would be alright.
  • I changed writing software, and went this time with Google Doc, thing that I don’t regret the least, for its ease of use and understanding. Briefly speaking, I embraced the Google ecosystem for its core functionality and integrality.
  • I erased all of my former accounts (Christa Chn), to start anew with a new pen name (Eaki).
  • I created my second blog on blogger under the pen name, Ea-ki; but with hindsight I realised that it was a difficult name to pronounce, thus decided to go for an anagram of my real name, which formed Eiravel Mist.
  • As the story took the shape of the science-fiction genre, the more I needed to research online about the nature of some things, and as well as the mechanics of others, trying to make my story as interesting as possible for the curious reader. Metaphysics, parapsychology, pseudoscience, gene editing, telepathy, aliens, strange science, quantum, everything deemed paranormal and surreal were read and scrutinised meticulously, as to be implemented in the story.
  • While I was at the phase of my last rewrites, I started to think and read about the most favorable channels where I would be able to publish, market, or even find a legit publishing house or editor for my book//e-book. To me, the process of getting a book out there was the most difficult part for me, much more difficult than that of writing Darcocyte. That’s where I understood that the internet has shitloads of problems, truffled inside of an illusionarium (yep, it serves to write in metaphors).
  • Meanwhile I continued learning some internet basics and their components, all the while doing social media, blogging, practicing other types of writing, wrote a French story for a contest (No, I didn’t win), wrote a poem for a national contest (No, I did not submit, for fear and doubts had been gnawing my mind then).
  • Writing, writing, writing. Practice, practice, practice. Reading, reading, reading. Rewrites, rewrites, rewrites. Edit, edit, edit.
  • Then it happened, after four and a half years, Darcocyte was enough elegant and aesthetic to my eyes as for me to publish it. Too hasty to show it to the world, and too tired to search for more, on impulsivity, and without thinking further, I self-published on a platform that doesn’t even make payment directly to my bank account, and where I have settle only for crumbs — I’ve settled for less (And these are the two main things that are actually stressing me, and where I need to calm down so that I might consider things under another light).
  • Now I am waiting, observing, and trying to calm down my impatience, hoping that I have well interpreted the signs.
  • But life needs to go on, doesn’t it? I should not forget that I have a poetry book to edit, and other short stories ready for publishing. This time, I won’t settle for less… TO BE CONTINUED.
Personal Narratives

Science Fiction, The literature Of Ideas

I really don’t know how this all began in my head, I mean, how did I came up with the idea of writing a science-fiction novel — the most difficult genre to be writing, mainly because there needs to be lot of researches in order to be able to build a whole new world, system, as well as things that might work for the story. Have to say that I never intended writing a story on such a complicated genre, and yet, gradually as the story took shape, I had to acknowledge that it took the form of how it had been shaped in, that is, sentences mended together to form a science-fiction story.

I do love science-fiction, but I never envisioned myself writing one — where I was much more inclined to write an epic paranormal romance, due to my poetic mind and love of Romanticism. Till now, I still can’t seem to realize that I spent four and a half years writing and researching as for Darcocyte to become concrete.
Perhaps it was the ambiance of the web and all of these new technological ambitions that fascinate me so much, or the unleash from the depth of my subconscious of all the Christopher’s Pike and other weird tale magazines I was so much fond of in my teen and young adult days . . . does it matter now? . . . I think it does, because now that I have published Darcocyte, I have the etiquette ‘author of metaphysical science-fiction’ tagged right upfront all of my online accounts; and as someone with eclectic taste and a mind as organised as a colony of ants, I really don’t know where will all my pieces of multi-writing-genres, topics, and themes find their way among my social feeds. Guess that’s why I love blogging so much, simply because of the ability to organize within these pages my plural taste, and sharing them with a simple URL for like minders to find my posts.
Thus, I hope that through Darcocyte, I have honored the essence and background of what describes the best a science-fiction story, which is, a story about life in future, or what it might be like in an alternate world — a literature of ideas.
Now that it is over, I mean, finished with the story writing of my story, I clearly see that I’ve created a whole new world only through creatively mending words together, and to me, that’s all magical; saying to myself that I did it . . . I did it; I was able to make my dream come true, and that’s, that’s all that I needed, as to regain that, which I had long lost.
If you want to read my idea of an alternate future, head to Amazon to buy & read Darcocyte.
Personal Narratives

Summaries Of My Writing Experience

Let us sit somewhere, and summarize enthusiastically

“If I waited for perfection, I would never write.” – Margaret Atwood – (author of many books, amongst which ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’)

When I started my writing adventure, I was filled with fears and doubts, knowingly that I was not skilled into the craft of writing itself, but still, I set myself to write something everyday, and this, even though if it was a sentence or two. At the beginning, and most of the time, no creative ideas poured into my mind, and I would go on scribble nonsense, but still, I did the work and typed my way through the struggle of beautifying my sentences. These first drafts of mine are total craps and practically unintelligible to the common of mortals, but yet, my passion for writing devours the whole negative mindset, and as well as the fear of typing words on my screen.

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.” – Stephen King – (author of many books, amongst which ‘Misery’, ‘Pet sematary’, ‘The Shining’)

Stephen King knows well the prime rules of the becoming of a writer, for I have personally experienced the fact that my writing skills – in every step of the way – developed through either reading (whether fiction or non-fiction), and as well as through the act of writing everyday, even if it goes along through noting down silly things. Thing is, if you want to, or is in need of developing your own style of writing, you will have to write a lot until your mind impregnates itself of the flow of style of your own personality. And you need to read a lot, so that you might learn and assimilate the contextual relationship, that will enable you, to come up on your own with the best composition that fits how you go on framing your own contexts.

“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.” -Neil Gaiman- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Coraline’, ‘Stardust’)

One word after another, it’s that easy and that hard, let me tell you why — as for me to sit down and type turtleishly those words, isn’t that hard, for me it is the part of describing the images in my head that seems arduous. I want the flow of those descriptive words and sentences to be as perfect as I imagine them to be. As I come from a multilingual country, where we alternate the way we talk, read, and listen everyday (alternate French, English, and Creole), it has, and it is still difficult for me to structure the type of context that I want to convey to high-standard readers. I slug very much along the way, but when I finish writing a sentence, my passion and pride is such, that all I wanna do is continue throughout the work.

“Start writing no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” -Louis l’amour- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Bowdrie’, ‘Lonely On The Mountain’)

Even one word typed on screen while you sit into calm space can ignite the flow of ideas of your imagination. No matter what, just start writing and the rest shall follow — that is what happens to me all the time, and in the end, passion wins it all.

“I started writing to please myself, a story I would like to read, and that is still true.” -Jean M.Auel- (author of many books, amongst which ‘The Clan Of The Cave Bear’ (my favourite book of all time), ‘The Plains Of Passage’)

Truth, there is nothing more pleasing to me than to sit down and type the story I want — like some sort of deliverance.

“Very few writers know what they are doing until they’ve done it.” -Anne Lamott- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Bird by Bird’)

I never really knew what I was doing, it only started with an inspiring spark to type the sentences I wanted to – and it flows like that… until finality.

“If you wish to be a writer, write.” -Epictetus- (Greek Stoic Philosopher, author of many wise sayings, amongst which ‘First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.’)

I do think that the moment there is proof that you are writing… then you are already a writer. End of story.

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.” -Franz Kafka- (author of many books, amongst which ‘The Metamorphosis’, ‘The Castle’)

It happened that I stopped writing for some time, for I had lost all motivation for the craft. But after that the spark of my inspiration ignited again, I had great difficulty upon writing — as if my brain had rusted during these moments of pause.

“Finish your novel, because you learn more that way than any other.” -James Scott bell- (author of ‘The art of war for writers’)

“It is by forging that one becomes a blacksmith”. “It is by sailing that one becomes a sailor”. “It is by cooking that one becomes a cook.” “It is by writing that one becomes a writer.” “Practice makes perfect.” – And these are the motto I believe in. So without a doubt, I knew that if I dedicated myself to the craft of writing, I would be able to do it. I spent practically 5 years writing my book, where I dedicated myself almost everyday at the practice of polishing both my grammar and writing style, all the while learning to use the writing software I write with, and keep close eye on the maintenance of my computer (which is my writing tool), and in the end, writing my book through a computer has been the most stressing, dramatic, and alienated thing that I’ve done within my whole life, yet, the more I practice what I have come to understand, the more it became a little bit more easier for me in every step of the way.

“Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” -J.k. Rowling- (author of the famous ‘Harry Potter Book Series)

Enough nerve, sprinkled with some rage, and loads of self-determination. I can’t say for now (as I am writing this post) what would become of my writing career after I have finished polishing my book, am I aiming too high!… I don’t know! But for now, I am positively assured that I am on the right track, I just got to thrive on these nerves until I see the end of it.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” -J.R.R. Tolkien- (author of the famous book series ‘Lord Of The Ring)

I am not lost, not after having learned and put everything into practice, on the contrary, I am wandering further and loving every streak of it.

“The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.” -Terry Pratchett- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Good Omens’, ‘Night Watch’)

That first draft of yours will be horrible, mine was so horrid that at some stage of drafting I completely lost faith in what I was doing. I did not understood why what I wrote seemed so ambiguous, and not the same as all the great books that I read. And it’s only afterwards that I came to understand that what I was writing was only some kind of a rough summary of my stories, and that it was only through the endless rewrites that the stories I wrote really took shape.

“Write a little bit everyday, without hope, without despair.” -Isak Dinesen(Karen Blixen)- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Out Of Africa’, ‘Seven Gothic Tales’)

A little bit of writing everyday can lead to a book. A little bit of writing everyday can lead to a blog filled of contents that you are proud of – all I do is just write with great pleasure.

“By the time I am nearing the end of a story, the first part will have been reread and altered and corrected at least one hundred and fifty times. I am suspicious of both facility and speed. Good writing is essentially rewriting. I am positive of this.” -Roald Dahl- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Mathilda’, ‘Charlie & The Chocolate Factory’)

If a great author like Roald Dahl said so, now imagine what a first time wanna be author like me might be going through during the phases of rereading and rewriting. However, passion is everything, and my love for writing my book, blogging about what I do or what I love, or even writing poetry, are stronger than all of my impatience.

Personal Narratives

What Pushed Me To Write My First Book

Yep, of course it exists 😝

Have you ever felt attracted by something, to the point of practically seeing patterns of it into almost every concrete things that surround you . . . but still, you fight with your natural instincts at the expense of what you learnt, screaming out to yourself that it seems too difficult to achieve . . . well, this is the kind of scenario that is typical to my life.
“The signs were too crazily aligned, for me not to take the chance of trying to write the book I had so much dreamt of.”

When I used to be a bookworm — back in the days when I had plenty of time to do whatever I wanted —, or even when I marveled in front of those attractive books exposed on the shelves of libraries; I always dreamt wide-eyed opened to write a book on my own one day. However, I had no strong determination back in the days, and even though I wrote poems, and scribbled everyday into a diary, I thought that I would never be able to do such a thing as writing fiction (have to say that my admiration for writers stems from the root thought that they are profoundly wise, talented, and passionately in love with writing). Now I know that during the act of writing, some words deemed as inspirational flows naturally into the world. Also, there are no magic tricks, and it is only through practice, persistence, self-determination, and being auto-critical of your own work, that you become skillful in your craft — and that it is only when you have transcended your thoughts of incapacity, that writing really becomes your passion. Then years go by, and with it, some dreams get buried under piles of living a life of futility, but still, the patterns . . . they persisted, and very often, I randomly fell on ads asking for submissions of manuscripts by whether experienced or amateur writers, where I went on only cutting the needed part of the newspaper, which I soon forgot about, simply thinking that I was inapt to write, or worst, I was way too busy living a futile lifestyle.

Then one day, I was introduced to a computer device that hosts blog sites, writing software, while also being implemented with all the information and materials that I needed to start my writing journey — and guess what, though I had not connected the dots right then, I had at least started to be inspired by those e-writers that write poems, short stories, and blog. I was like an enthusiastic child, curious and awed at all these perspectives at hand. For me then, anything was possible (at least, that was what I thought at the very start . . . how gullible of me). Afterwards, for the fun of it, I created an account on a writing site, and started writing a short story about the innocent love of a cockroach for a girl, and the more I wrote, the more I knew that I could write stories, all the while realizing: “it’s now or never to write my book.”

The signs were too crazily aligned for me not to take the chance of trying to write the book I had so much dreamt of. Thus, after the chaos, the tears, the misunderstandings, the doubts, the swearing, the tiredness, my paranoiac crisis, the sufferings, but also little by little, I finally led my way through the building up of the chapters that make my book — where right now, I am going through edits, and with high hopes that I will be gifting to myself this book that I have been writing through good and bad times. I devoted practically four years to the completion of this science-fiction book, and now that I am at the polishing phase, I can say that I am proud of myself, to have half-accomplished my dream through self-determination.

So, I want to seize this opportunity to thank all the people that have created all of these easy- for-access software, and everyone else whose arts have inspired me, without forgetting those who have written informational articles about writing, and also, credit to these handful good intentional people of the web-space.

I do hope that your dreams come true, and don’t be shy to comment below about what pushed/is pushing you to write your first book.