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Monday, January 26, 2009
Dear CAP, I have decided against trying out for your highly acclaimed programme this year. Why so, maybe, perhaps not, these phrases chased each other about as i twiddled my thumbs, waiting for a conclusion to apparate. Oh, such a dilemma! has never seen the light of day since Hamlet's. Firstly, I found no trace of inspiration in the dusty shelves of my cranium! Indeed, only cobwebs remain. And they seem to go like this: "Light. Glaring, blinding, light. He blinked furiously, eyelashes struggling to shield his helpless pupils. The cuffs choking his wrist went clink, clink, and then clink no more. Short, sharp footsteps - followed bya clang, and the metallic grinding of a thousand cogs easing into place. He was alone. Lead clad feet.." And then a screech, pause, stop. It refuses to carry on. And the momentum evaporates, like vapour in the wind. Thus, I am unable to concoct a beautiful, deep, touching story. I seem to favour the happy endings though they don't really go well with the palette of exploration. Secondly, (I delude myself) that there is no time! to write. I am brainstorming, always, unconsciously. But nothing seems to make me grasp the pen, yank off the cap like drawing the hilt of a sword and plunging headfirst into a good short story. Nothing! And I seem to get distracted. The passion is not there, I chided myself. If it were, you could have written those 5 pieces in a jiffy. No nosebleeds, no sudden proliferation of white hairs, no random jogging in circles (indoors) at unplanned intervals. But there you are. And there is no more time left to write wonderful pieces that I can feel proud of, and look back and say "That was a good piece of writing. Even if I didn't get in, I have recognised it as my style and I'm happy with the way I created it." Or the alternative, lazy folly. Thirdly, self-justification. As they say, once bitten, twice shy; Though it is different this time, I understand the rules and regulations of entering much better; I don't think I could live with not getting in again. Pardon my pessimism! But I feel that even if I do get in, I can't just turn on the tap and write. The lack of reading for months, the lack of taking time off to sit down and write, even if its just a paragraph or two- all these contribute to what's happening write now. Oops, I meant right now, scratch that. Writer's block. And if I don't get in, then well. Will it be the end of the road for me? All that hopeless believing in my articulation and expression skills. Down the drain to mingle with canal rainwater? Absolutely not, Mr Higgins! Right, that was a tad out of place. What I meant was, I have always felt a need to justify myself in terms of writing. And now, when it seems such an unfortunate time, I don't think I can do that well. The future is there. If my career will be based on writing, then let it be. I will be ready for whatever the future holds, in due time. But right now til that positive happy beam of light, I shall make a concerted effort to read more, write with flavour and passion, and mature in terms of writing and style. And I shall try not to judge myself on the achievements I obtain. This seems very personal indeed. It is, and at the end of the day may sound like a truckload of excuses, but at least I can understand why I made this difficult decision. CAP is really a wonderful opportunity to rediscover one's abilities, hone one's strengths, have a lot of fun and gain a lot of wisdom in the process. And I am not ready. For that. May you have talented participants this year (Please please pick Martha, Sharon, and Marie Chong! Blooming blessings to literature, they are - no pun intended) and may CAP flourish and continue to enrich young writers. P/S: I shall return to reading The Screwtape Letters, thank heavens for WLZ. P/SS: This accent is awfully absurdly addictive. Yours Faithfully, Cherryeris
10:20 PM
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megnut dia
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