Today it’s my seventh day of antibiotics, my stomach aches and I’m feeling kind of low-spirited. I know, I wrote an entire post yesterday about how to make the pain go away, but it just keeps on coming back to me… Ok, I promise I’ll focus harder after writing this post.
What I want to talk about today is: I LOVE writing, but either I don’t know what to write about or I get it over with in a few lines because I’m too synthetic. It has been like this for several years. I have always been one of those people who talk too much. When I have to tell a story, I get caught up and I describe every little detail of it and I get lost in opinions and interpretations, and at some point point I can see my listener’s eyes getting wider and wider, staring at me like “Please, PLEASE get to the point”. Sometimes this just makes me realize that I lost the point, so I just drop the story altogether.
That’s why, when writing, I have always tried to be as synthetic as possible. I have always been afraid of boring my reader, so I did my best to avoid any word or sentence that was not strictly necessary. Since primary school until the end of high school, we periodically had tests in school which consisted in writing a text; we had two or three hours at our disposal to read the topic, think of something and write; sometimes it was an essay, sometimes an newspaper article, sometimes creative writing. I always got good grades at that, but the starting was my nightmare. Before reading the topic, I was already afraid of not having anything to write. Then I read the topic and got scared of not having enough time to think of something and write it. I was terrified at the idea of staring at the wall with no ideas passing through my brain while all my classmates were furiously writing. Those blank pages waiting to be written petrified me. In the end, most of the times I was the first of the class to finish, I was so nervous. But how many sentences I started and then deleted… I didn’t want to sound redundant, so I condensed in two pages what could have filled five.
And even now, it took me so long to finally find the courage to start this blog, because “who would ever want to read this crap?” and “if I find this boring, I don’t want to imagine what other people would think of it”. This insecurity clearly goes beyond the simple writing issue, but still, this is what I would really like to do for a living, and I have never had the courage to pursue it until now!
Then one day I was reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s blog (one of my favorite writers of all times, btw) and she wrote: “When I was writing “Eat, Pray, Love”, I had just as a strong a mantra of THIS SUCKS ringing through my head as anyone does when they write anything. But I had a clarion moment of truth during the process of that book. One day, when I was agonizing over how utterly bad my writing felt, I realized: “That’s actually not my problem.” The point I realized was this – I never promised the universe that I would write brilliantly; I only promised the universe that I would write. So I put my head down and sweated through it, as per my vows.” (I would copied and pasted more because I simply love what she wrote there, but I’m trying to stick to my point). This was such an inspiration to me. I had finally found a valid reason to ignore one of the fears that still separated me from my dream!
So, I’m not really sure that this post actually has a point, but in conclusion: you are still just a few, my readers, I really hope your number will grow, and I will always love every single one of you just because of the fact that you are reading this. But if this is if fact very bad writing in a very bad blog… That’s actually not my problem. I’m loving this. To quote Elizabeth Gilbert again: “It’s not perfect… but it’s so so perfect”.