Check out the Inktober 2017 gallery here: Inktober 2017 Entries
Last night, I was chatting with one of my dear friend (I guess I do chat a lot) and the conversation mainly focused on doubting your words. Whether or not they have any originality. A little conversation and here we are. Another entry into the Diary of a Madman.
There is an old saying, there is a difference between practicing what you preach and preaching only after you have preached. I talk a lot about writing ugly. Now, what I’ve always meant by that is rather simple. Do not censor your words, do not limit them with rules and regulations. Do not worry of a particular word reads good or not. That word exists for a reason.
I’ve said it many times. I struggled with writing for more than eighteen months before I started this little blog (Yay, 400 followers today). I struggled with finding the perfect layout to devise scenes, to create plots. In simple language, I’ve been bat shit crazy for a long time finding perfect writing routine. Perfect style.
And the day I felt frustrated with all of it, the day I decided writing isn’t for me, I wrote fifteen hundred words full of cuss words, insults, and sarcasm. Plain old ridicule for the society (I know I am an asshole).
One of the jokes went like this, “I do not believe in love at first sight but I am a firm believer of annoyed at first sight.”
And it would be the understatement of the century but I loved it (imagine me smacking my lips as I said the last three words). I loved it so freaking much that I repeated the exercise for eight days. Eight long days, twelve thousand words later, I started the diary of a madman and what a journey it has been so far.
I’m about to finish my hundred days of blogging. Hundred continuous days of writing. No breaks. No doubts. No search for the perfect layout. I write the way I want to. If you like it read it. If you don’t, well, there is always fifty shades of grey.
And in case you’re wondering whether I can write complex sentences or not, read one of my earliest poem I published here, “A Melody of Tears.”
Land charred with the smoke of hope, dirt moist by red.
A valley filled with mist of anguish.
Tamed memories. Abandoned flesh. Sunken eyes. Soaked with hatred, naked, lonely days and treacherous nights stripped of life.
This is a tale, a single cry, of ashes dissolving into the land, a melody of tears, the day of red and black.
These are the visions of Great War.
I’m a man, undressed from his pride, surrounded by broken leaves, a broken man fading into the abyss, lingering on to few last broken words.
There isn’t a point to originality. There aren’t any new tales, just different narrators capturing the essence in their own perceptions. It is OK to doubt your words. That is the only way we improve. You’ll suffer if you always try for originality. My dear friend, they are your words. They are always original. Just do not assume or wish that there isn’t another souls like you anywhere in the world.
Just know this, you are a brilliant writer, my dear friend. Always know that.
Same story only different narrators.
Well, now that we are done with the pep talk, let’s talk about Inktober (I do talk a lot about it, don’t I?). Today’s prompt was screech (WordPress was believe). Now, I believed in my abilities to work solely with ink brushes and no fineliners. Well, the final result didn’t came out as horrible as I had expected it to but that is OK. It gave me valuable practice.
Some other entries into Inktober worth checking out.
Well, definitely all my entries (Duh, I am narcissist after all).