So some of you will know that I am writing a book. A book about myself.
I took myself as a subject, because I know myself best and therefore know what to write. It’s non-fiction, so all I had to do was write down memories and feelings about those memories.
I thought this would be a walk in the park. Easy steezy. A cakewalk. Peanuts.
At least, so I thought.
Writing consistently enough is not the problem. I write often enough. In the morning, when I’m sitting in a coffee joint. In the evening, when I’m sitting at my desk or lying in bed.
The problem is I am discovering memories that I thought I didn’t have anymore, discovering new viewpoints about the people around me, and discovering new goals and regrets that were stored deeply away.
I am getting to know myself better, just by writing down memories and thinking about myself.
That’s why I am pondering over whether to release the book when it’s done, because it’s so immensely personal.
I probably will when the timing’s right. There are a few things I have to achieve before I can release the book.
It’s become more than a set of memoirs: an excercise in reflection and goal-setting.
I had a conversation this weekend with a friend who said that if I wanted to get the things that I want in my life, I have to start planning.
But I’ve been doing that on the downlow already. It’s not so much about the planning, it’s the fact that my plans depend on other people’s feelings and whether I take action.
Because if action was all it took to get where I want to be, I’d be golden. It’s the other people’s reaction that holds me back. However, it seems to go alright up until now so might as well keep on taking things slow and get in that positive snowball.
But I can always develop my plans further. Don’t worry, I’m writing about that too.
Professionally, I’ve got a plan for life. I am already doing the things that I want and I am keeping on track. Studying, making art and writing.
Personally, there are still some developments to be made.
Keep on keeping on.
Until next time.