The I in WrIting

I think it can be argued that every text has a public, whether or not this public engages and interacts with it the way the author wants. In that case, even this blog has a public. What this public does with what I publish in this blog is completely out of hands, all I can claim about this writing is that I wrote it and that’s where my authority ends. I hold the authority in the sense that I control what goes on the pages/posts. This is an immense responsibility, regardless of the absolutely mundane and exaggerating that are being written about. 

I have always been passionate about writing, primarily because I found it to let me live a world I wanted to. Books gave me worlds but I wanted different worlds from the ones I found in books. I could not find what I wanted, so I created new ones for myself, filled with what I wanted and nothing more. I think I am so utterly tired that I am quite sure I had a few dreams in a short 10-minute nap I just gave myself. 

My head is aching and I am pretty sure I have an upset stomach but university life demands that I suck it up and deal with my problems like a strong child. And I do, I have been extremely tolerant and brave many times, I have pulled myself through difficult times and managed to hold on to my sanity through it all. So I tell myself all these things as I pack my things up and get ready for more studying and a night of work. 

Today, we workshopped a story I had written in my Introduction to Creative Writing class. I was left quite delighted, unexpectedly pleased because people had such nice things to say about it. I was quite not expecting that at all, in fact, in my head, I was convinced my story was the worst in the whole week and that people were going to be extremely savage and critical of what I had written. To get good comments, (and not to mention, extremely flattering compliments from both the TA and the professor) felt great. We could all do more with having such feelings in abundance, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.