Tag: people

Let It Go

November 24th 2013. The day I felt most proud of myself. It’s still unmatched.

let it go

That was the day I finished my first draft of my first full-length novel. I had taken on the National Novel Writing Month challenge and succeeded. We went to the beach that day, and I soaked my feet in the salty depths of the ocean, while my heart soared beyond the setting rays of gold.

I had completed the longest writing project I had undertaken. And every one else my age was shuffling about, preparing for the semester exams. Fifty thousand words in less than thirty days — I still look at it as my biggest achievement.

And like every NaNoWriMo participant, I pledged to myself not let go of my work. I promised I would edit my draft, and then edit it some more, until it’s good enough for the eyes of a professional editor. I made a plan, I sketched out how I’d work and planned to get my novel published within a year.

In the days that followed, I tried editing, but I kept dozing off on my laptop. I kept telling myself I deserve some rest. Three years later, I’m still editing my draft. But I rested way too much. Now every time I open up my draft, I stifle a yawn.

I’ve come to a bitter realisation. My novel is boring. If I can’t get through it myself, how’re others supposed to?

So I forced myself to make it more interesting. I tried reworking one sentence in one chapter at a time. But it was hard. I had put it to rest for far too long that I had changed so much from the person I was when I wrote it.

I had been in a writing job, and when I look at my draft now, I can see all the blunders I couldn’t see before. I had grown as a writer and an internal editor, and as the person I am now, I can’t revive that piece I wrote three years ago.

I am now a mature writer, I know the perils of using too many passive sentences, the rules of a semicolon, and the effect of an adverb-stuffed piece of writing. And then I see my own work, and feel dejected. I see all the mistakes I now try to avoid. And when I set out to correct them, I feel like I should rather scrap the whole thing and rewrite it. Even the plot seems too weak for a reader to get through third chapter.

So now, it lays there. Taking up most of the my storage space on Evernote. I don’t think reworking the story would do any good. Perhaps I should just let it be. As a reminder of my dedication. As a testament to my ability to show up everyday and write. It’s one of those things you don’t brag about but swell as you think of it.

So, I’m ready to let it go. I tried publishing it on my blog for National Blog Posting Month. I got a few regular readers, a handful of likes, and a couple of comments. But that’s all. Maybe it’s time to put it to sleep, and try again. I’ll try another NaNoWriMo, another story, another fifty thousand words. And maybe this time, I’ll write it proper and edit it sober.

Let’s Talk Education

Or to be more exact, let’s talk studies and literature.

Some say those two words should never be in the same sentence. And if that’s the case, my whole life is a question mark. Because I study literature. But I don’t have a degree in English literature. I don’t see the point of it.

Too much of conflict in one paragraph?

I’m a literature enthusiast, but I don’t have a paper from a university to certify my interest. I study literature by studying the literature itself. Not the textbooks that other people (who think they have conquered the subject) wrote. Because when it comes to the written word, there’s no one way to understand it. There’s no right or wrong in interpretation.

Our system of education, however, forces students to read, understand, and memorise other people’s ideas. This may seem sensible for science or mathematics. Because those subjects rely on facts, and facts are facts no matter who writes them where.

But literature has more do with individuals. I don’t see the world the same way my mother sees it — even though she showed me the world. When no two people comprehend the same scene in the same way, how sensible is it to thrust one person’s perspective on a larger crowd?

But I love studying literature.

The best think about literature is that the student makes the decision. If you think it’s right, it is. If you think Shakespeare predicted British colonisation in his Tempest, then so be it. You are entitled to your opinion. The literature never tells you what to think. But a degree in literature not only tells you what to think, it also forces you to agree with textbook writers.

And that’s why I see no point in a degree in literature.

Cross-posting from my Medium blog.

Every Step Along the Way

How can I thank you?

No problem. Like coffee?

I’d love to meet again.

I’d like that too.

When can I call you?

I’m always free, aren’t you?

You like roses?

Who doesn’t?

Some don’t.

Well, I do.

Red or white?

What do you think?

Plain or embossed?

I want a design. You?

Me too. I like this pair.

I like the silver streaks.

Gold rings, silver linings?

Little things matter, right?

Guess, boy or girl?

Boy, I say. You?

Either way, it’s ours.

And we’ll love it.

You know I love you?

Do you have to say?

Recliner or armchair?

Which is more comfortable?

I don’t know, you tell me.

Recliner. Armchair later maybe.

Aren’t you the boss?

Aren’t you the financier?

Help me, which pill?

Why not keep tabs?

Yes, next time. Tell me now.

Here, this now. That one later.

Thanks. Want some tea?

Why the hell not?

IOUs Made Awkward

What’s more awkward than owing someone? Somehow though, whenever we say “I owe you,” we don’t think of owing someone something other than money.

sorry.jpg

Like an apology, for instance.

I owe you an apology. It’s awkward because I don’t realise I owe you. And even if I do, I wouldn’t want to apologise. Because, it’s demeaning.

Unlike owning cash for a petty party we crashed the other night, owing an apology isn’t as fashionable. There’s no pride in it. Sure, people used to frown even when you owed money, but that’s in the past. Now, owing money for a group outing is the posh thing to do. People have come to accept that youngsters spend their money and time on parties and food. It’s only natural.

But to owe an apology, is to make yourself vulnerable. How often do we hesitate at the send button after typing out “sorry”? It’s proof that you’ve been in the wrong, and we hate being wrong. It’s an inherent quality — the obsession with being right, and the ego that prevents us from accepting our mistakes.

No matter how big a personality, looking another person in the eyes, and saying you’re sorry is still too much for far too many people.

But what’s the point of living in a society if we can’t accept it when we’re wrong? What’s wrong with letting down that ego and just say sorry? After all, we’ve got nothing valuable to lose. On the contrary, an apology only shows we’re human, and broad in the mind. If only we can realise that “to err is human,” we wouldn’t let our incorrigible behaviour get in the way of happy co-living.