the writing blog

jade’s 25, 25, the significant number. As expected, she’s navigating life, unsure of herself, her identity, her career and her future. She would want it all figured out, a perfect path ahead with no specks on the way

side note : The thing about writing is : what is the point of writing if you have nothing to tell ? I don’t have anything to talk about, I don’t have the urge to write or to express myself, so I value the IDEA of writing and having written something great rather than the pure ACT of writing. And since I don’t actually write, I do not progress. And that could be fine, I could just not like writing and that would be it. It would just not be something that defines me, or something that I master. But, and here comes the trick, I always come back to the IDEA of me writing. And thus I come here every couple of weeks, I write a line or two and leave.

George Orwell wrote « why I write » and in it he stated: « When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. But I could not do the work of writing a book, or even a long magazine article, if it were not also an aesthetic experience. » I feel I have the latter not the former. Stuck in the middle, having one but wanting the other, stopped in motion, praying for it to be delivered like a gift.