All I ever wanted to do is write.

I’ve reached a point in my life where all I wanna do is write. If I can’t, well, drops of depression drips on my head like a Chinese water torture. But I guess it’s not as bad as waterboarding, these drops just keeps feeding me with a desperate need to write and to keep writing. Waterboarding is after all a drowning experience, so it ain’t that bad to have these drops hitting my head like a constant reminder of what drives me forward every day.

I’d like to walk away for this dusty desk and get the hell out of here, burn every bridge and lock myself up in my study. I’d like to bolt the doors like Renton did in Trainspotting, do a cold turkey form the world and just “concentrate on me writing”. But I can’t. Life is so full of details, so many crappy obstacles that trips me over on my En Route to the Path of Narcissus.

When I write I have fun, even when the words gather around on the surface of this blog I know that this is all I ever wanna do. Since I was a kid I liked to create stories, loved to write essay and exercises in school when I was in my teens, wrote poems and thought a poet was my way. I finally grew out of the poetry style, or maybe it was all the drugs I crammed into my body in my late teens that killed the whole poet thing of, I don’t know. But the stories still had its space to grow in my mind, characters came to life, scenarios unfolded in my mind and I began working on them.

Since my early twenties and up until this point I guess I needed to mature a bit, to evolve and to find my place inside the writers booth in my mind. Still probably need some more growing before I reach a spot where people will appreciate my writing, but it’s good to know you can do better, to know you still have time to explore the wheat fields, that harvest time is in front of you.

So how do you get to that point, to the place where you are good enough for people to want to read what you write? What can I say? I read as much as I can, write as much as I can, even in a foreign language and keep working to become the best writer I can be. With best I don’t mean compared to others, you can only reach as high as what you have within you, but try to move forward, have fun, be honest and don’t deceive yourself. If you write stuff you don’t believe in, dishonesty will shine through it.

Well, this is what I believe at least. I know that I have evolved since my first attempts to write a serious story and I know I still have some miles to go on that desert road before you reach the crowded cities with your text, but what a joy it is to walk those empty and dusty roads, where only the wind and singing birds are your companion. I hope it’s a city that sticks it spires and steeples up on the horizon, but you never know until you get there, it might after all just be a mirage waiting to drag your hopes down.

But as long as you have fun when you write it doesn’t really matter if you are published or not. The time you spend doing it is all that matters. If you are published and people like your stuff, well, that’s a bonus.