It’s My Party and Slumdog Millionaire
On my birthday I always remember this song. I saw it in a movie at some point and I really liked it.
Long live Google, I found it, it is a movie from 1990 Problem Child. I don’t know how old I was when I saw it but I remember I really liked it and the song stuck with me.
Things accompany us throughout our lives and it is interesting to see how we become who we are.
Slumdog Millionaire, I think I need to watch again, comes to mind from time to time because of the way the main character remembered events in his past that now provided the answer to his questions.
Reminds me of how, sometimes, without meaning to I collect thoughts, images and impressions, only to use them later when I write.
It is so interesting to see how when writing certain things that did not seem important when they happened, come back into consciousness and become written items. It feels a bit like magic how things are transformed.
Writing has never been easy for me, I always fight it with every word I put down. I assume that through some assiduous psychotherapy I could find out why, but honestly I have now reached an age where I do not really care anymore.
I have learnt to accept that this is how it is for me, a permanent conflict between wanting to write and feeling totally inept at it. As the deep wisdom goes, It is what it is. I know there is a type of therapy based on acceptance, maybe empirically I am just going down that route.
The thing is that, I have given up writing so many times and each time I came back, awkward and self conscious, hoping but fearful, I came back and gave it another go.
I am getting to an age now where I cannot afford to give it up anymore, I just need to go with it, do what I can and just enjoy the process.
I am no bestseller author (although I might be if I ever manage to finish something) but I can write and enjoy it, enjoy my characters and the world they live in without any pressure.
I am no tormented genius anymore, I am a middle aged person wishing to finally do what they have never managed to do. To get over themselves and do what makes them happy!
I wish this to all of you and fingers crossed it works!
I can relate to this about picking it up and quitting. I seem to need a good muse to inspire me to write. If I write just to write it can get sloppy and bland. If I've got an inspiration I can really go. But it usually doesn't last very long. Some write so prolifically that it is as if they always have that muse. Now, someone recommended me on Substack. I have some that follow already. I say how is this? I have two articles. Now the pressure is on. What am I supposed to do. I've got old notes. I could go into old stuff. It is kind of neat, though, to finish an article and publish, isn't it? I'm into herbs and spices too. But there really is only a handful that are anything anyway. Back in the old days, you would have to use what grew nearby. This article, I'm right there with you. We don't have to write to the void anymore. Maybe it is good to write here. Even though I haven't learned to like sitting in front of this screen all day. Even half a day, or an hour. But sometimes that seems all there is to do. Write away!
you manage it very well, keep going!