Of humble beginnings…and middles (or whatever stage I am currently at)

The hardest part of writing is writing. Taking the time and actually sitting down to write. For me, the seconds before I start conjuring the words from my mind to the paper are the most infuriating. I have to fight with and against myself. I don’t have time for this right now, I’ll say, This doesn’t even make sense. No one will want to read this. Indeed, I am most often my own worst enemy and toughest critic.

Writing is hard. Studying English is hard. Formulating ideas, themes, and paragraphs IS HARD. Take your time and be patient with yourself. First drafts are meant to be just that. The Mona Lisa was not painted to perfection overnight, nor Symphony No. 40 composed without a fluke in the first run.

Your work may never be the systematic definition of perfect, so stop comparing and start redefining. Striving for a completion to your work that is not synchronous with your personal style will always leave your work incomplete. What makes Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 memorable is not that they are without mistakes, it is that they reflect the person who created them. They are unique in that no other person could have or can recreate that piece of work in the same way. Create your own version of perfect, or even dismiss the word from your vocabulary. Either way, stay true to you.

Most of all, be kind to yourself. The world provides you with enough critics, bullies, and naysayers, do you really need another? Especially one who dismantles from the inside? Maybe no one will ever read my blogs or the essays I write, but I have had the courage to write them and that in itself has been one of my greatest triumphs.

Currently, my favorite “desk” is my pink foldout table next to my “chair” (bed, obvi), with my favorite spectator and editing assistant right next to me.


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