The beginning of the end…of the beginning.
If you ask me, I’m equally confounded by the title of this story but nonetheless, here’s the story and I hope it will make sense in the end.
About three years ago, I discovered a reading and writing platform called Medium. (This very platform you are reading this story from.) I was elated. I found a simple and user-friendly platform where I could not only read but also write.
I read stories from writers across the globe and interestingly, I discovered and fell in love with writers from my mother land, Zambia. I loved their stories. I related and resonated with them. Ultimately, their stories inspired me to tell my own stories.
However, I noticed something rather strange about most of these writers. They were in absentia. They weren’t actively writing — only once in a while. Some seemed to have abandoned their blog, altogether. It got me thinking and wondering why this was the case. I wanted to find out, but I never did.
Hence, to appease myself and to sort of bridge the gap, I embarked on my writing journey. At that time, it seemed and felt as though I had discovered my passion. I was quite sure about it. I enjoyed writing. It felt natural to me. I hardly found it difficult to come up with ideas and words for stories. And to top it off, the accolades and encouragement I received from my readers were reassuring. It sure felt like writing was, indeed, my calling.
I remember, I told myself, ‘I will write more often. I will be consistent.’ In other words, I was telling myself not to go down the rabbit hole of my predecessors. And true to my words, I sure did. I wrote consistently about things that picked my interest and fascination. It was pleasing. It was satisfying. Though, the pleasure wasn’t for long.
Overtime, sitting down to write started feeling like a chore. It became boring and tedious. I didn’t enjoy writing like before. As a result, I wrote less and less and lesser. (It’s pretty crazy how some things tend to turn out.)
Ostensibly, I’m heading down the path of my predecessors. The same path I told myself not to walk in. It’s stupefying. To be honest.
Perhaps, like me, someone out there is questioning and wondering why I have been quiet, — That is, if at all they give a dime either about me or what I write about. Like, ‘what’s happening to this dude? Why is he tripping?’
Yes, quite frankly, I’m tripping and honestly, I will be quick to blame it on one culprit, the pretentious writer’s block. (Everyone does, don’t they?)
Among other things, my newly found passion, — photography has taken over my desire to actively write. Suffice it to say, I now write using photographs pretty much the same way writers paint pictures with the written word. Work and life balance is also another huddle but hey, that’s a story for another day.
Presumably, something of this kind happened to those writers whose work I fell in love with. They probably got engaged with other life activities or supposedly, to their soulmate(s).
Nevertheless, I realize and gather that I still have the will and most importantly, the power — to write and to be consistent. And ultimately, the power to instigate change and make a difference in whatever aspect of my life where change is cardinal.
I can and I will! That’s the motto, henceforth.
In the meantime, my goal is to get in tune with myself and find better ways to enjoy the writing process — taking it back to when it all began — in the beginning of the end…of the beginning! (You still don’t get it? Me three!)
Can you relate to this story? Let me know about it in the comment section below.
THANK YOU FOR READING AND FOR YOUR KIND SUPPORT!
