The First Draft Will Always Be Rubbish…..

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And so will the second. The third too will, probably. But that’s okay.

Some days you’ll write one paragraph after another only to realize you don’t have a fucking clue what you are doing. By the time you’re done you’ll want to slash lines across the computer screen. Other days you’ll simply stare at the screen and you still won’t have a fucking clue what you are doing.

Sometimes you’ll read something wonderfully inspiring and go – ‘Wow, I want to write like that!’ A while later, you will read something appalling and think, ‘Good god, who writes like that?!’ Both times you’ll realize you have not written anything in days. But that’s okay.

At times reading great work will make you question your own ability. You’ll feel diminished by your own perception: of another’s greatness and of your mediocrity. Other times you’ll be gripped by an even worse emotion – fear – when you read work that you despise and wonder, what if I can do no better? This too is okay

Upon reading the things you’ve written in the past, you’ll sometimes cringe. Sometimes you’ll smirk. Sometimes you’ll laugh. Or roll your eyes. But all of these reactions are just fine. (Except for a wistful sigh – that is not okay).

There are times you will not want to write – AT ALL. You’ll do everything you can to avoid having to type out a sentence that is your own simply out of fear that it may not turn out to be good enough. But good enough for whom? For yourself. Because god forbid you write one sentence then another and another and a whole paragraph, and many paragraphs after that and when you’re done with all of it you realize just how mediocre and pointless it all is – and the last thing you want is to be writing meaningless drivel and now you’re like all those writers you despise. Because your standards have always been so damn absurd that nobody could live up to them, not even yourself. Because, what if, ten years down the line you read something you had written ages ago and find a typo? A garish, unmistakable typo – like a horrendous pustule on a beautiful face – sitting there for years and years, on work that you loved and laboured over, for everyone to see and point at and laugh. Oh good god!


It’s okay.

Sometimes you don’t want to write simply because there is nothing to write about. Nothing worthwhile anyway. You have nothing different to say. Everything has already been said before. What more can you? How differently can you? You’ll just be another page, another paragraph, another line in a colossal heap of pages all floating about on the world wide web. Seriously, do you know how many blog posts are written everyday? 5671. The world can survive without another. What difference will one more make anyway?

Your vocabulary isn’t all that great. You make typos. You are too lazy to proofread. It’s too much work anyway. To give form and coherence to each random thought that comes into your mind. To sit with it for hours, if not days, dissecting it with words, with metaphors, with the right punctuation. To keep a neat little train going. To stay focused. To make it sound just right. To think, type, think, delete and type again. And all the while, to not judge yourself. It’s exhausting.

You’ve done this for long enough.

The words are in my head. Isn’t that enough? Is it that important to have them on a screen?

They’re better off in my head.

You’ll think. You’ll argue. You’ll reason. You’ll plead.

And then finally, you’ll write.

And then finally, everything will be okay.


My blog sucks

I am not a good blogger. Seriously. I can barely manage to write once in a month…. Look at the last post — made in September. September! for chrissakes! I can’t just put pen to paper and begin writing my shit here. I can’t share my personal life like this. I don’t kow how other bloggers do it. Talk about their break-ups, their bitchy exs, their bitchy bosses, their bitchy workplace, their bitchy friends, relatives, neighbours…. I just don’t get it… How? For the whole world to see, and comment and gossip and bitch about. And then we complain there’s no privacy left. So unless I really have ‘something’ to talk about — something my wonderful mind has just figured out — I can’t blog.

And also, if I’m going to take the pains to put into words 1 of the 1001 thoughts running through my head at any given point of time, it can’t be the ravings of a 7 year old. Writing, is supposed to be the end product of a process of understanding. Like water that comes out of our Aquaguard (with eboiling +) at home which has three stages of filtration and purification. Not like some leaking faucet in a public bathroom. That’s another problem I got. I can just write like that. That’s like throwing up. eeeeuuuu! One has to think and figure out shit before writing it out. Not just blabber like some silly kid. So you see most of my posts are critical analyses of things that you never thought needed to be critically analysed. This is why I have no viewers. My blog sucks.

And frankly, what’s the big deal about writing sob stories of your life on your blog. (Not necessarily sob but generally complaining/aggressive/I-dont-give-a-fuck/this-world-sucks/you get the picture type stories) I don’t see the point of writing such stuff. How much are you going to complain? And at some point of time, one’s got to stop writing like a 7 years old.

I think I’ll just have to resign to the fact that my blog is not going to be popular. No one likes to read stuff that isn’t complaining/aggressive/I-dont-give-a-fuck/this-world-sucks/you get the picture type. I write stuff that can’t even be tagged. Who looks for tags like creativity or imagination or other shit I have here? I was really happy with the pornography post — people like to look for sex..but the damn thing isn’t optimized for sex. Bah!

My problem is I take this shit seriously, I think I gotta think before I write. Bah! Who wants to read that? Do we read while thinking? No! No one’s got that kind of time. I actually expect people to come to my blog and get enlightened and leave challenging comments and thought-provoking responses over which we engage in idealistic and philosophical discussion. See there— I did it again! TOO MANY BIG WORDS IN A SENTENCE !!!! Just goes to show how incorrigible (read: cannot be improved) I am.

My blog will just keep sucking.

Come to think of it, since no one’s really reading my blog, I won’t really be revealing much to the public. I could put up stuff about my love life (or lack of); my issues (nope, no lacking or slacking there) and it won’t make much of a difference. No, but see — that doesn’t change the fact that it would still amount to making it public since blogs are meant to be public. That’s another problem I got — I can’t ignore shit for what it is. Damn!!  My whole system’s screwed. To hell with it — let it suck.