Literary Angst 2.0

Writing has long been a source of pleasure and fulfillment for me. I may be the most socially awkward introvert in the planet but when I write, I feel different. It’s as if every inhibition in my body vanishes as I follow my stream of thoughts and ideas. However, writing had also caused me a lot of frustration because of my increasing belief before that it was not for me.

I blamed the errors I was always in danger of commiting whenever I write: grammar, mispelling and weird choices of words and sentence structure. That’s the reason why I’ve always kept my style as plain and simple as possible. But still literary stupidity persists, always there like rocks on the ground waiting for me to stumble.

I’ve done all the things I could think of for me improve on this craft. I read books. I studied the stuff they taught me in school. I tried to write even if there was no inspiration. I pushed my self to the limits only to fail most of the time. Writing really tested my discipline and determination, things that I doubted of having before. And I wouldn’t have gone this far without WordPress and a blog friends who would always encourage me to continue.

Now, it no longer bothers me that much if I feel like there’s something wrong. My renewed passion for writing is quite evident with how I try to post something each day. My works may be appreciated only by few, but I am really pleased to know that those readers are also among those few good writers and bloggers left in the web. From them I learn. And because of them I am always inspired to write.