“When It Clicks”- Make Sure You Read This Article Out If You Are An Aspiring Writer (Very Important)

Do you know how they always tell you that you have to be really good at something before you try it out? yeah, don’t listen to them. That s*cks.

So many strokes for different people indeed that some motivations and ideas are generally not even supposed to make sense and you know it but the fear to listen to your guts because it seems wrong will always overrule.

For me, it was writing. I always worried that I needed some basic skills before I can scribble down my thoughts or channel my feelings appropriately into written words.

I was today years old when I finally summoned the courage to look up “How To Be A Good Writer”. I did and I was like, Oh that’s it?. I literally had to punch myself in the face because I have wasted so much time thinking about trying that I never actually did.

Back in secondary school, we were taught that you need this adverb or that pronoun or this conjunction in your essay before it can make any sense. It always broke my heart to get my script and after so much effort put into that test, what you see is, “this isn’t enough…20/100”.

C’mon, sir, you don’t even write as often as I do. At least appreciate my efforts. Not going to even deny how much negativity that gave me about writing.

Nonetheless, when you are meant to pen down your thoughts, some forces will be put to make that happen for you; (in this case) the miracle of overthinking.

No matter how hard a person tries not to be much of something, if it’s deep-rooted in you, it will find its way out. This is what I’ve come to believe about these moments, then and now.

I kept so many diaries just to have my mind in my hands, literally. Those cute lockable diaries with hearts inscribed on every page. The first day of getting those brings you a rush of adrenaline, a dancing mini you within you.

You find yourself staring at them every chance you get, sneaking away when no one is looking to go tell your new secret book all about the cute, innocent boy that is in your young heart.

You write and write and write till your thumbs hurt and then you stop abruptly with an ending that says, “I hope he finally likes me back.” Giggling at the same time sighing, you lock it and keep the keys away from prying eyes. But that’s never the end of it, is it?

Every time something new happens, your new best friend is the first to hear all about it until the day you lose the keys and you have to break that tiny lock.

The first heavy sigh knowing you gotta do what you gotta do. Then you break it and it feels like the words have been dying to fly out, escape and expose you. It still doesn’t end there because, hey, she’s still your favorite friend.

She runs out of pages, you get more of her and you continue. Endlessly writing all about what hurts and what makes you so happy.

One day, you’re tired. Tired of feeling like you’ve been living a fantasy. You ask yourself who you were kidding trying to keep track of every moment of your life. So you begin to miss days of reporting. Days become weeks. Weeks become months.

Twice you’ve remembered to write again but you feel it’s useless, where would you pick it up from?. Could it be that exciting news from five weeks ago since nothing special has happened again or the excruciating pains of your first heartbreak that you just can’t describe to anyone. The one that feels like only you can set yourself free.

It starts. And it feels like it never ends. The blockage. The dead feeling. The indescribable irritation. The agonizingly sharp ache in your chest late at night when you beg sleep to slowly take you away only for sleep to turn its back on you when you needed it the most.

At that time, it didn’t matter that you were losing what you loved doing. It still won’t matter until something clicks. Something brings it all back.

You begin to find a reason to write again. Your self-confidence which has been long broken begins to fix itself. You appreciate the little things you’re talented in and you want to try to develop on them.

You don’t care that there are better and more skilled people all over the world. You just want a chance to be heard. Criticisms don’t feel like attacks. Nothing pulls you down because it clicked when it was supposed to. It clicked.

Writer: M’s Corner

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