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“Why don’t you write a book of your own?” Yes, really, why don’t I? For the simple fact that, while practicing it as an immediate emotional outlet writing provides such satisfaction and sense of cathartic relief, when having to write with a definite purpose in mind – a piece for a writing contest, a speech for an event etc – the activity becomes more of a Machiavellian-thought torture scene.

For instance, the opening paragraph took me longer to write than I would care to admit; and not owing to a lack of ideas – those were many, flowed through my head while doing the dishes, while making myself a tea or on the bus on my way to work, just not in the opportune moment when I sat in front of the laptop with the declared purpose of jolting down thoughts for a new post.

“You want to know what my definition of insanity is? […] When a person’s thoughts and actions are in complete opposition […].” (a line by Ben Grogan on “Almost Legal”) I think of myself as a writer (in the making if nothing more for now), yet I sometimes struggle with my writing as if it were imposed on me and not a deeply personal choice and inclination. I wish myself a writer, but I have not written anything in almost a month. The excuses I’ve been finding for my absence from the blogosphere are as varied as are the full of bull hockey – no time, too tired, no inspiration…

That’s my insanity. Well, one of the several forms of insanity that I’m most likely presenting if I were to take Ben Grogan’s words as true. But I digress; plagued by insanity or not, this is why I haven’t written a book of my own. Yet.

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