Writers, poets, bloggers or thought thinkers, when you write, do you ever feel as though you are creating literary genius? Words so deserving of being heard and praised to all that you think you’re the next Ernest Hemingway or Jane Austen?
Because I do.
All the time.
Whether my advice is repetitive, thought provoking or most likely, nonsense, I find a way to put it in ‘my best words’. You deserve that, because if you’re going to take the time to read my work, I would hope it is semi-decent.
Maybe not literary genius, but a girl can hope.
After two years of blogging, I look back on my work and recollect my former thoughts. I question myself, what was I going through at that time? How was I being challenged? Was I in love? Was I felling out of love? etc.
Asking these questions, I try to decide whether or not my words made sense. In my head, they do, I mean, it’s my head. But in your head, my words could be a jumbled mess.
I don’t want that.
Writers preach how they write for themselves. Fun fact, that’s not true. We’re all writing to impress someone, whether you decide to admit it or not.
Write to impress, write to deceive, write to cope, write to love. Whatever it maybe, I can guarantee you’ve created literary genius. You just don’t no it. Neither do the millions of other people in the world looking for exactly what you have to say.
It’s a sad beautiful tragic, but in the end, our failing to find strength in others words forces us to find strength in our own.
Instead of putting a Kate Spade, Hemingway or Brontë quote on the wall, write down your own.