I don’t know how I got into this mess… again.
On my first ever blog entry, I said, I realized that I wasn’t cut out as a writer. I love to write. I love to tell stories. BUT I cannot write for an audience and on a deadline. I write when I want to. And I write what I want to write about.
I haven’t updated this blog because there was no pressure to do so. When I write something here, I don’t expect that somebody has to read it. I don’t really care if nobody gets to read it. That’s why I called this blog my therapy in the first place.
So now… I got caught in another writing stint. I can’t remember how I became part of it. Maybe I have forgotten how difficult it was to start the first line. How exhausting it was emotionally to wait for the right moment — the explosive burst of creativity!
As I recall I applied as a coordinator for the writers. But somehow, I got bored with what the team was submitting that I gave a suggestion of how to make it interesting…. hmmm, so now, I recall how it all started!
I thought I can write it. They all think they couldn’t write it the way I am describing the book but they think it sounded fun. So now, I’m two weeks behind the sked (and I am the coordinator!).
I need that boost of creativity!
I am crazy to think that I could write. Maybe because I know that when that moment starts, the ideas that flow from my brain to my fingers beginning to form into a story, I feel the “high”. It’s that excitement and exhilaration one feels when the right mood strikes. Maybe I am gambling. And maybe all these emotional stress is worth it at the end. I am a gambler*!
*My friend Alice just sent me a link to a music by Fun called Gambler. It sounded so wistful and I even cried. So that’s why this idea came in here! And it provided me a title for this entry.