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My Struggle With Writing
I have been an aspiring closet writer for a long time, but the truth is, that as much as I enjoy writing, I am uncomfortable with sharing my inner world with the outer. So, to help build some momentum, I have placed my faith in putting words to page.
I love writing. Or more accurately, I love playing with words. Rearranging them to form an engaging piece of prose or a meaningful line in a poem, letting them whisk me away to an enchanting malleable space at the back of my mind where things are in constant state of flux. And like many on this planet, I feel like I have a lot to say.
Ever since I was young, I have been enamoured with the world and have tried to explore as much of it as possible by working my way from country to country. Variety is the spice of life. I have tried to experience everything that life has to offer in my time overseas and continue to consume information like an addict in constant need of his next fix. I consider myself lucky to have so much material to draw from. Inspiration has never been the problem.
So why do I struggle to write? Well, as you can see from my previous rambling attempt at justifying why I am “qualified” to write, to would-be readers, I suffer from an affliction of the ego. Not the egotistical type which can do wonders for a writer, filling the self with unearned abundance but the counterproductive…
