Almost everyone writes. And they write with various purposes in mind. Be it for casualties, businesses and whatnot. I too am included in those categories. YES, I write.

Just as other writers, I too face difficulties when I write. The problem famously dubbed as “writer’s block”. From my personal experience, the ultimate problem is putting the thoughts into words. More often than not, my train of thought often went berserk and going off-course. At the moment of writing this, the train is starting to derail. Beats me.

Putting thoughts into words are as hard as sewing the bits of clothes together to make a decent garment. There’s the problem of finding the right thread, and also the right technique to pull it off in one piece. Similarly, the analogy applies to writing. Knowing how to write technically is just insufficient. Should care is not exercised diligently, a writer could still nevertheless come up with a piece of word art. The question is, is the word of art is of any sense?

Yes, making sense of your writing is very much revolved around HOW WELL you put your thoughts into words. From my personal experience, every other time the bulb in my head does spark with ideas. Then I start to feel the sensation of ideas pouring out profusely. Naturally, I SHOULD be starting to jot it down to grab the ideas FRESH from the oven. Unfortunately, this is so very not the case. Usually, I tend to dilly-dally; blindly believing I could restore the pour and throw it out on the piece of paper. And more often than not, what happens is when I actually take the pleasure to sit down and start writing, I find that only tiny crumbs of the whole bread remain. This information gap syndrome I’m having may not be alien, yet my extraction ‘device’ is so inefficient. So I end up with a good underlying idea I WISH to convey from the title, and a worse and even worse produce throughout the story.

Apart from that, I also possess a negative trait which I shall describe as ‘the grass is greener on the other side” syndrome. YES I do have it. The trait often pokes my rib into reading other writers’ stuffs meticulously and searching for their word usages. Then I start to compare them with my own. How they arrange their thoughts into words NEVER fail to strike the jealousy out of me. So I often end up in ridiculing my own piece, remark it as rubbish, and helplessly feel inferior for having it produced by my very own hands.

It is not that I cannot write decently; it’s the utter nonsense of PERFECTION that I seek for in my writings that I couldn’t stop from comparing my works with others, and start to appreciate my capabilities and limitations.

To ‘recount’ the whole experience altogether, it is of no wonder that I often end up with exhaustion in each and every writing attempt – as if I am competing for the triathlon or something. No wonder as well since it is, after all, a MIND GAME. Mind over matters, they say.