Thing that haunts me is publicity.
When I write just to myself or without my name all there is is a story, my characters and their troubles. That’s more pronounced in English because there are no acquaintances there, no opinions or reputation. There’s only story and where it leads me.
When my name is involved it just becomes about me and I’m not that very good at telling stories about me. I love to tell other peoples stories, you get to say the point in the end to make it a story about something. The difference is, not that I’m shy, I’m not, or that I don’t want to share, but that I’m living my story still and there is no point in the end, I don’t know where the road leads. So I can’t paint my experiences to match the meaning my story is conveying.
To tell it more simple. No, not that, I can’t do simple, that point has already been made.
To tell it from another angle. Yes I can do that. Recently I came to realize how I’m doing what I do as a writer, when I think of my life I tell that story to fit some amount of pages. Because I’m not near the end I have that story opened. That’s no problem for me because I have allot of stories opened up without knowing the end. It makes writing interesting. But when I get my hope up that exit sign is near I pick up myself in optimism and tell the story with an end that includes that exit from the highway. Of course, you’ve could guess by now that in this moment I’m on the same highway not knowing am I right or just driving on the road with no meaningful end. Each exit sign I encounter causes me to visualize the future, the end, but when I drive on doing same things, feeding children, writing fan-fiction in small hours, I have to erase that and keep on waiting for a change.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m just fine here where I am, most of the time. But the writer in me that feeds on complexity of the plot wants some overview, to know where the next cross section leads so I can realign myself in the right line.
But maybe the Doctor was right, not knowing make us try even harder, examine new directions and paths. Maybe I’m enjoying it more this way, making connections, looking at children, experimenting with clay. It’s all useful. Besides if I knew where the road leads I would probably shifted in the fifth gear and pressed on ignoring the sightseeing. And sometimes sightseeing is what life is all about.