Something has happened since I moved to Edinburgh, something totally unexpected. I keep writing and I can’t stop. This is a good thing, for the most part. Writing is something I’ve always wanted to do but when I’ve tried, I’ve always been disappointed with the result. Not just disappointed. Embarrassed, in a ‘crossing out isn’t good enough, now we must burn this’ sort of a way. Now I’m amusing and entertaining myself with my writing and it seems to be happening more and more. Positive encouragement from the creative writing course also helps puff up my feathers a bit and seems to inspire me more. Not that I’m ready to just post something up and leave it here all vulnerable.
I love the Internet, but criticism can feel brutal at the best of times and this electronic connection can depersonalise us both. I think divorced from the look you’ll see in my eyes when you crush me, you’re free to say anything. That stops us both from learning and becoming better people. I want to get better at writing, and I want to share, but I want it to be more personal than that. Not that I’m going to come round to your house and read at you; I can see you already wondering if you can dive behind the sofa and switch the light off in one fell swoop. "No ears here, no no, move on."
So…a thing I’ve decided is that if you want to read something, I’ll post you something. Into a postbox. Like the olden days. E-mail me your address and I’ll write you out a poem, haiku or part of a story I’m trying to write.
And you can let me know what you think.
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