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I sit here feeling strained, knowing I have the ambition to do something creative of epic proportions. I want to write, I love writing but most of all I want to make a difference with my writing. I want to write something that will live on after I have died for people to remember me by; a timeless classic novel or a book of enduring usefulness.
The though of dying and being forgotten suffocates me. Some people are quite content to live out their life in relative happiness, die and then be forgotten. I want to leave behind me a legacy. I want people to read something I have written and for it to speak volumes to them. I want to make a difference to the lives of people; but I do not know how.
I sit here at my computer most nights with a blank word document open, wanting to begin my masterpiece. Longing for my fingers to spring to life and begin tapping down the jumbles mass of emotion, creativity and vitriol that is my thumping unconscious in a legible fashion. I keep a pen and paper by my bedside in case a dream clarifies what it is I am meant to write about. What I am meant to bring to the world that I feel is going to be so important. If I were a spiritual person I would probably say it was my destiny to convey this message that sits encoded in the back of my mind, always a few inches from the tip of my proverbial tongue; but so far it hasn’t made itself clear enough to scribble down on paper.
My jumbled assortment of poetry, discourses and stories each hold an element of what I am trying to reveal, but the big picture is far from complete. It pains me to think that I may never discover what it is I feel the need to express so badly. I have tried philosophising, stabbing in the dark at huge issues such as the meaning of life or the size of the universe. Issues I feel uncouth of someone of my education to even ponder with any degree of seriousness. But I will continue to explore every issue under the sun until I probe deep enough into my psyche to uncover the message I have to offer the world. Something I need to uncover for the sake of my ever failing sanity.
The though of dying and being forgotten suffocates me. Some people are quite content to live out their life in relative happiness, die and then be forgotten. I want to leave behind me a legacy. I want people to read something I have written and for it to speak volumes to them. I want to make a difference to the lives of people; but I do not know how.
I sit here at my computer most nights with a blank word document open, wanting to begin my masterpiece. Longing for my fingers to spring to life and begin tapping down the jumbles mass of emotion, creativity and vitriol that is my thumping unconscious in a legible fashion. I keep a pen and paper by my bedside in case a dream clarifies what it is I am meant to write about. What I am meant to bring to the world that I feel is going to be so important. If I were a spiritual person I would probably say it was my destiny to convey this message that sits encoded in the back of my mind, always a few inches from the tip of my proverbial tongue; but so far it hasn’t made itself clear enough to scribble down on paper.
My jumbled assortment of poetry, discourses and stories each hold an element of what I am trying to reveal, but the big picture is far from complete. It pains me to think that I may never discover what it is I feel the need to express so badly. I have tried philosophising, stabbing in the dark at huge issues such as the meaning of life or the size of the universe. Issues I feel uncouth of someone of my education to even ponder with any degree of seriousness. But I will continue to explore every issue under the sun until I probe deep enough into my psyche to uncover the message I have to offer the world. Something I need to uncover for the sake of my ever failing sanity.
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It's a bold ambition - to write something that has lasting allure. I would like to achieve something similar, though I'm aware there is a possibility I may not be up to it.
I'm currently writing a novel, but I'm unsure how it'll turn out. It's also worth keeping in mind that creating something 'great' very rarely happens early - having 'something to say' comes from a mixture of honesty, clarity, well-honed practice and experience. So time is important. And time is [hopefully] on all our sides. Don't stress too much on doing it now.
I'm currently writing a novel, but I'm unsure how it'll turn out. It's also worth keeping in mind that creating something 'great' very rarely happens early - having 'something to say' comes from a mixture of honesty, clarity, well-honed practice and experience. So time is important. And time is [hopefully] on all our sides. Don't stress too much on doing it now.
sleep, you'd be surprised how fun it is.
That's my intelligent contribution of the day.
*walks*
That's my intelligent contribution of the day.
*walks*
well at least u know what u want out of life, u want to be immortal not in body but in words, i'm sure that if u keep trying the right words will come to u and u will be content knowing that people will read ur eternal words and that it may make a difference in someones life. keep trying...
:-)
:-)
I sit here feeling strained, knowing I have the ambition to do something creative of epic proportions. I want to write, I love writing but most of all I want to make a difference with my writing. I want to write something that will live on after I have died for people to remember me by; a timeless classic novel or a book of enduring usefulness.
The though of dying and being forgotten suffocates me. Some people are quite content to live out their life in relative happiness, die and then be forgotten. I want to leave behind me a legacy. I want people to read something I have written and for it to speak volumes to them. I want to make a difference to the lives of people; but I do not know how.
I sit here at my computer most nights with a blank word document open, wanting to begin my masterpiece. Longing for my fingers to spring to life and begin tapping down the jumbles mass of emotion, creativity and vitriol that is my thumping unconscious in a legible fashion. I keep a pen and paper by my bedside in case a dream clarifies what it is I am meant to write about. What I am meant to bring to the world that I feel is going to be so important. If I were a spiritual person I would probably say it was my destiny to convey this message that sits encoded in the back of my mind, always a few inches from the tip of my proverbial tongue; but so far it hasn’t made itself clear enough to scribble down on paper.
My jumbled assortment of poetry, discourses and stories each hold an element of what I am trying to reveal, but the big picture is far from complete. It pains me to think that I may never discover what it is I feel the need to express so badly. I have tried philosophising, stabbing in the dark at huge issues such as the meaning of life or the size of the universe. Issues I feel uncouth of someone of my education to even ponder with any degree of seriousness. But I will continue to explore every issue under the sun until I probe deep enough into my psyche to uncover the message I have to offer the world. Something I need to uncover for the sake of my ever failing sanity.
The though of dying and being forgotten suffocates me. Some people are quite content to live out their life in relative happiness, die and then be forgotten. I want to leave behind me a legacy. I want people to read something I have written and for it to speak volumes to them. I want to make a difference to the lives of people; but I do not know how.
I sit here at my computer most nights with a blank word document open, wanting to begin my masterpiece. Longing for my fingers to spring to life and begin tapping down the jumbles mass of emotion, creativity and vitriol that is my thumping unconscious in a legible fashion. I keep a pen and paper by my bedside in case a dream clarifies what it is I am meant to write about. What I am meant to bring to the world that I feel is going to be so important. If I were a spiritual person I would probably say it was my destiny to convey this message that sits encoded in the back of my mind, always a few inches from the tip of my proverbial tongue; but so far it hasn’t made itself clear enough to scribble down on paper.
My jumbled assortment of poetry, discourses and stories each hold an element of what I am trying to reveal, but the big picture is far from complete. It pains me to think that I may never discover what it is I feel the need to express so badly. I have tried philosophising, stabbing in the dark at huge issues such as the meaning of life or the size of the universe. Issues I feel uncouth of someone of my education to even ponder with any degree of seriousness. But I will continue to explore every issue under the sun until I probe deep enough into my psyche to uncover the message I have to offer the world. Something I need to uncover for the sake of my ever failing sanity.
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