To Write

Write something everyday. That’s Madeleine L’Engle’s advise to wanna-be writers. So this is me following her counsel.

I have always been a writer. I wouldn’t say I’m exceptional at it but I love writing. It was one of the ways I expressed love and appreciation to my parents as a kid and was the outlet of my teenage angst. I kept my journals and diaries under lock and key because I was very candid with my thoughts. When I wrote for an audience, I tended to veil the real meaning of my words. I guess the fear of being scoffed or laughed at or simply ignored stopped me from wanting to be a published author. Then came the blog world.

When I first started blogging in 2003, I became acutely aware of the fact that there are writers more talented than I am. So I spaced my blog entries depending on how creative I was feeling or how interesting my subject was. But then I met wonderful souls in the blogging world who not only made me feel my thoughts are safe but also worth sharing. They were the ones who kindled the fires of a dream I never thought I had in the first place. I guess it was buried under layers of insecurity and anchored deep down by the lack of encouragement. Since meeting A, T, J, F, M, and S, I was no longer scared to tell the world I would like to publish a book someday.

To be published, one has to come up with a work not only compelling enough but also backed by the author’s belief. And my dear readers, compelling is something I only know the definition of. It’s not a struggle to think of something I believe in and write about it. The challenge would be to slow my thoughts down at the rate of 10 words per minute.

Truth be told, I have a few lines stored somewhere in my brain that I would love to use in a book. The only problem is, those lines are like oil and water. There’s more hope for Jews and Arabs to be reconciled than the ideas in my head. I wish there was an easy way to choose a line or a topic and stick with it. Inflate it to the point of bursting and cross my fingers no one sticks a needle in it and laugh while it explodes all over my face, leaving me with nothing but a ringing in my ears and a wounded ego.

But, I shall write. Write ’till the worldwide web could no longer hold it in. One chapter a day, one part, one line. And someday I’ll stitch them all together and pray to God someone will be blessed by the scribbles of my pen (or the tapping of my keyboard).