Its me again ,Lejay28
For quite some time I have been practicing to write clearly and effectively, I managed to reach the realization that everything I have written, whether privately or publicly, was nothing but a mess. All bloody mess. I was then comfortable settling on what was "okay" and did not settle on what "could have been." Thus, limiting the wide possibilities of a better text.
I believe that there's no alternative route to better writing but to write and fail more, to produce more mess. Totally not an easy-peasy enterprise, but writing makes the space for the self to see the world in a certain way. The struggle to write is nothing but an important, bloody struggle, though many people would undermine its value and significance to the real grind of the world.
This, I have to bear in mind, has to be one of the noblest things to do: to sweat and bleed excessively in disrupting a senseless world into a world of words through writing, even without audience and money in return.
