I often wonder, why did it took me years to finally start on writing a book that is published worthy? I could've saved so much time by starting years ago.
But then I re-reread my stuff now, and re-read my stuff from back then and then realize the answer.
Back then, it was impossible for me to write as I do now. Call it experience, call it maturity, call it whatever. But I do think, I am at the right time to start getting serious about writing.
But I'm also pleased that even as my writing style matured, the underlining thread that connects my words together have not; love, family, friendship, adventure…and a whole lot of angst. And usually character death.
I do love my angst.
No comments:
Post a Comment