This is my century post, 1ooth post. I thought of making it a celebration and happy post and was looking forward to write it since I had completed 95. Now I am doing exactly the opposite that s because I realized writing 100 posts is no big feat, I wrote 100 posts in two years and a month which is approximately seven hundred and fifty days. Now tell me does that sound good?
I started blogging because it helped me vent out what I felt at that point of time, eventually I began enjoying writing. But since then I am not sure if I have made any progress with my writing. I haven’t achieved much and this is not satisfying. Most of the stories I come up with are trashed, even I can’t bring myself to read those for the second time, let alone the readers . In last two years there have been atleast 5 times when I had the writers block. I dread it, not having anything to write is the most awful thing that can happen to a writer.
I love writing, but I am not sure if I will ever be a good writer. Therefore the title, did I find love in a hopeless place? Yeah I am forced to use the lyrics of Rihanna’s most crappy song. I think of writing a fictional novel and have lost the count of story lines I thought of and dumped. After the in-numerous tries I just have one idea now that I think will be good. This time I believe I won’t give it a second thought and just begin writing, letting it take its own course.
There are times when a write-up you think is good doesn’t get the kind of feedback you thought it will. That let’s you down, its disheartening. Anyways now I promise myself to discontinue disappointing myself. Seeing the past nineteen years of my life I guess this is the only place and thing I can do about. And hoping the next 100 doesn’t take another 750 days to come.