I feel like Rakhi Sawant.
Well, not exactly. But I have this heaviness that I need to get off my chest.
This blog is in desperate need of a shot of mojo. It’s been ages since that first, admittedly over-enthusiastic post and that’s it. All those promises to be regular now sound about as genuine as the same Ms. Sawant crying on any tv show she’s been on to date.
I’d love to blame it on writer’s block. Maybe even claim that I was so busy, I barely had time. But that’s bullshit and all of you out there who love to write yourselves know it. If you truly love to write, you find the time. Then, for a long time, I wrote a couple of drafts, which remain stuck in limbo to date. You know why? Because I was afraid of being rejected. Thinking that maybe somebody would read my post and say, “Dude, you really suck at this.”. And damn it, I’d rather have wild dingoes gnawing on my danglers (look! An alliteration!), than put up a post I wasn’t one hundred percent sure people liked. That’s where I went wrong.
Writing is not about making up stuff that makes other people happy. It’s about you. Unless, of course, you’re a really famous novelist, with millions of pre-orders for your next novel. It’s about venting what you have inside of you. You can do this in the most obvious way (“Fuck off!”) or be a tad bit more subtle (“He requested his nemesis, by no uncertain means, to take his immediate leave”). Of course, you could also envelop it in a fantasy, just to make it more interesting. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, it’s not only about getting those very random thoughts in your head out there. It’s about enjoying yourself while you do it. Don’t worry that the people out there will trash it (Ok, worry a little). Hopefully, this should mean that I plan to be more sincere in posting.
Just my three cents (adjusted for inflation) worth.