I’ve heard it said, “The sign of a good writer is that they love to write.” Alas, I am not a good writer as I don’t particularly enjoy writing. In fact, most often, I hate it. The best part of writing any of my pieces is when I finish writing them because that’s where the discomfort ends and the relief begins.
Barring the occasional piece that came to mind in times past when something particularly and unusually usual caught my attention, I have not written. Like I said, I’m no writer, at least not a very good one. I’m not much of a reader either -my limited vocabulary reveals this. It’s only in the past year and a half since I came to China that I’ve been on this literary pilgrimage.
I am by no means extraordinary. If you read my pieces you’ll know this, in fact, you’ll probably know this even if you don’t know me. I mention my normalcy, because you might naturally wonder if I have some amazing story to tell. I do not. More than anything, I am an ordinary, average Joe, who is one of many. My ego takes a terrible, but much needed, beating because of this. I’ve come to accept this and reluctantly embrace it and because of it, I’ve found inspirations in the most uninspiring of scenes and scenarios.
I am hypnotized by the beauty of things like humility, brokenness and my own defects. I revel in them and wrestle with them and these struggles, I put to page. And this page is where you’ll find me.
All this naturally begs the question, “Why do you write?”
The answer is simple…because I have to.
And why do I post?
Because you’ve told me to.
Reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I welcome and enjoy your comments