Writing is hard, incredibly hard and if you overcame the romantic idea of an author sitting at a candlelit table, with a quill in his hand, bent over a pile of papers (a computer nowadays), and if you ever tried to write more than one thousand words day after day you know what I mean. Also listen to the masters:
Are you famous? Do you have more than 10k real followers on the social media? If you do then stop reading. The others follow me in the unveiling of a mistake I’ve already made.
Writing is nothing more than a guided dream.
Jorge Luis Borges
One year ago I was one of the most sedentary person which somehow got lucky and did not exceed by far the “right” BMI, although I must say that I was shocked one day to discover that I couldn’t button a suit jacket that was usually so loose. But let’s elegantly ignore my weight problems.
Once upon the time or so the tale begins…
Last night it was hot and my apartment at the last floor seemed to flow on the hell’s rivers and I tried again the old remedy of submerging myself in another place. With a book in my hands, lying in bed, a cup of green tea by the side, I was turning the pages and following the words trying not to get asleep or let my mind wander, but by the minute I felt the hideous face of errancy taking over.
Or it wasn’t hideous at all?
After a week in which I struggled to get my blog up and running, I must confess that my last few days were a little too relaxed, more than they should have been. I stopped thinking of all the technical tricks that a blog is supposed to fulfill in order to be successful and I focused more on the writing part. After the post in which I exposed my first steps I thought that’s enough about blogging and that I should try something else.