This isn’t me trying to be a writer, of blogs or of books, this is just me trying to explain to a friend why I can’t ever be a writer, and the guy that said that there is a book in everyone never met me. Sure when I heard the “one book in everyone” thing I was over the moon. I’d love to be at least a one blog or a one (real thin) book author.
Now I can’t say that I have always wanted to be a writer. I have been reading and I have loved reading since I was a child, however, I can’t honestly say that I’ve wanted to be a writer. In fact, I have never really wanted to be anything, that’s to say that every option seemed equally good, or bad, to me. Some or lately from what I read, everybody has at some point wanted to be this or that in their childhood — a singer, an actor, an astronaut, a scientist, an engineer or at least a doctor. Not so with me. I have been equally interested or uninterested in everything.
Its only last past few years that I have begun to want to be a writer. Since then of course, I can only think of why I cannot ever be one. I mean, does the world need another book? There are enough and more books written about everything under the sun. Why would anyone want to read me? What would I even write about?
Do I have a brand new thing or an idea to talk about? Do I have a brand new perspective on anything? An original thought? Do I even have a subject to write about? Of course, I haven’t read anything written about a slightly artistic, burnt out IT engineer yet, but I suspect it wouldn’t make an interesting read. Also it takes a lot of courage to write about anything very personal however compelling the story may be. We all have skeletons in our closet.
That reminds me of yet another one of something some one said once. They said that the more personal you get, the more universal it feels. I mean, I have a family, friends and I am too much of a chickenshit to really write honestly. There are some pretty dark things I think about sometimes.
I think and I know and it feels like right there are as many unique perspectives as there are people in this world, and although that ought to theoretically enough motivating to write, but turns out it isn’t enough. Let alone the world, do I even have a unique interesting perspective on anything at all? I suspect I am too stuck up, and feel like a fake in every kind of a group, in every place. There is no subject matter that I am an expert on. My interests are too varied, a classic jack of all trades.
Nothing to be sad about I supposed, I mean there are performers and there is an audience, maybe I am supposed to sit in the audience forever.
