“I am going to take this bucket of water and pour it on the flames of hell, and then I am going to use this torch to burn down the gates of paradise so that people will not love God for want of heaven or fear of hell, but because He is God.”


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Writing is easy. You just let the words flow from your brain, to your hand, to the keyboard. The difficult part however, is to be satisfied with it.

I think I've re-wrote my preface for at least 6 times in the past week, and I am predicting a series of re-writing in the next week, because this is something I really care about, so I don't want to do it by just getting by, I want to really do it.

The thing is, every author have their own voice in writing, and reading lots of books makes you realize the diversity of conveying a message can be, so the purpose of writing a good piece, is not to imitate the stories that you like, because it not only becomes unoriginal, but halfway through, it will just look so forced and pretentious and have a really weird flow. So, the best way to write anything, is to just be honest. Unless you have a fairly wild imagination and an artistic talent of writing within you, then that's alright. I'm not a fiction writer, and I'm not trying to be. Even back in high school, most of my friends take the one word question to prompt them for a really well-written piece of fiction for their essay part B, and I would always go with the fact essays, the argumentative, because I really can't do fiction. I tried, I wrote, I sucked.

And things gets harder when you get a writer's block. It comes by quite a shock, and now I'm sitting between a hard place and the biggest rock. You don't force these stuff, you just don't. Look at how many people who started blogging for a couple of weeks, and then abandoned it entirely after that. I don't know how people write for a deadline, forcing your brain to come up with something is just really hard, and unless you're the gifted and talented, the end product won't be that amazing compared to the stuff your brain suddenly comes up with.

I do try to write though, I'd take a deep breathe, try to calm my mind and just attack the keyboard, but midway my fingers stop in mid air, and I'm freezing in that stance for a couple of minutes, not knowing what to do...and then I switch to my tumblr tab, and the rest is pretty much predictable.

Although some people are discouraging me at this point. Saying that I'm not being serious, and I haven't done much progress, and I'll abandon this project just like the rest of my fail attempt of a project, but I can't back down just yet. I know I'm slow, I barely progressed, but so are turtles, and everyone knows turtles are awesome.

As of right now, I'm trying. I may not look like I am, but I am, and noone deserves to estimate the amount of effort or the amount of struggle I'm going through to make this work, because at the end of the day, noone loses or gains anything except me.

An excerpt of my preface (which I may or may not change after this)

I wish I can tell you that this is in fact an amazing story, that a half-giant miraculously showed up at my doorstep claiming I'm a wizard slash batman slash the girl who lived who is destined to feat you-know-who and these are my adventures of near death experiences in a magical school located in the middle of nowhere.Or that I volunteered as tribute for a battle royale in a city filled with people dressed up as Lady Gaga. Or that I'm in love with a pale white shiny vampire, but my werewolf bestfriend also have feelings for me- err, scratch that off the list.

I wish I can tell you all that, but the unfortunate reality is, I'm as normal as a normal person can be. I attend classes, I watch TV, I read fiction, I listen to music, I eat, I sleep, I pray, I'm socially awkward and I spend hours on the internet, if that's not normal then I don't know what is. In fact, if I were a character from any movie, I'd be that girl in the background eating and chatting with a friend during the scene where the two leads (whose life is probably slightly better than mine) have their date at a cafe.

I'm an extra in a film, a mere ripple in the pond against the waves of the ocean, a life brief as a candle, a poor player strutting and fretting my hour on stage, a single rain drop during a stormy lonely night. A stormtrooper in the million copies of identical minions. Insignificant and unimportant.

But so is everyone else.