New Book, Old Story
For the past 3-4 years, I’ve considered myself an “ex-writer.” In high school and the beginning of college, I used to write poems, song lyrics, short stories — the works. Everyone who knew me knew that it was an integral part of my life. But one day, I just stopped. It didn’t feel like I could do it anymore, and I didn’t fight the feeling to end that relationship I had with writing.
It was about 6 months ago that I was inspired to write again. There were a few factors involved, but one main one. And I mostly wrote 90% of my writings about that one main factor. I decided to create a collection of all the scribbles I’d scrawled about this one factor, and that’s the project I’ve been working on for the past week or so.
So far, it’s about 20 half-pages filled with a rollercoaster of feels and “intimate details” as one fellow writer described it when I lent her my prototype. I’m also playing with the idea of sharing it with the world. But I’m not sure how or through what. For now, the booklet, rightfully titled The Candid Travesty of a Non-Relationship just sits indifferently on my laptop, caged in solitude.