The madness of writing
I am not what you
might call a prolific blogger, I barely get 200 blogs out a year. At times, I
may not blog for a week, and this not because I have nothing to write about.
There are ideas
buzzing about in my head, many like the end of an orgasm, billions of sperm
rushing to a destination of sorts, but only one getting to fertilise the egg.
Yet, that is just the
beginning, there is a period of incubation or gestation, the thinking, the
crafting, the suffering and yet sadly the miscarriage or the abortion. Ideas
that will never come to term, formed but never fully, deformed and sometimes
silly, or informed and probably dangerous.
I’m normal
There is a whole
editorial panel of advocacy and rivalry trying to gain ascendancy as the black
wall of Writer’s Block becomes the constipated discomfort to creativity.
Nonsense, sometimes,
all I have to do is start typing and what materialises is nothing like I
originally imagined or thought I wanted to write. Like a man possessed, the
subconscious takes over from the inner recesses of the mind to the fingers and
my eye watch with amazement as I begin to understand that what I have written
is that bit of crazy that you have just read.
Thank you!
However, this blog
had to be written because it is my 2,500th blog, it has taken just
11 years, 2 months and 24 days to get this far. No, I am not a prolific
blogger, but I think I can say, I am a consistent blogger.
In all, I want to
thank all who have read my blogs, some have commented, some have disputed, some
have supported, some have excoriated – that is the story of life and I hope I
can get better at this, it is first personal and really, I like it that way.
Thank you, all.
1 comment:
way to go
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