I don’t know if anyone reads a word I write. But it doesn’t matter. For me, it is cathartic. Today, I told my family about my experience with Gemini. Unfortunately, my kids sided with the AI. “You do speak sooooo slowly,” they laughed in unison. I know I do. That’s exactly why I am a …

Why do I write so much? Because when I speak, I constantly get cut off before I can even finish my sentence. At least when I write, I can fully articulate my thoughts. Whether anyone is interested is another matter altogether.

The trouble with me… I always embark on writing projects I have no hope of ever completing. The latest is no different, and all of a sudden I have paused. Looking at all the moving pieces — the complex character relationships, multiple timelines, varied formats like emails and messages, corporate documents, physical challenges, family dynamics, …

How daft I was, thinking anybody would be interested in what I have to say. Anyone other than spammers and hackers. Remove them from the equation, and we’re left with no one at all. Lesson learned.

I work on a project with a passion, it occupying every thought and second, for weeks on end. Then, all of a sudden, I stop. It’s gone. All interest in it has left me. I can no longer be bothered with it. Is that good or bad? Could be either. Perhaps I’m never meant to …

That didn’t take long, did it? Coming to the realisation that the membership thing was self-indulgent nonsense. Does anyone really care that much? Nope. Nobody but spammers and hackers, anyway. So I backtrack, disabling that functionality. Now we have two content states: published or unpublished, accessible or not. Does that mean I’ve withdrawn all of …

For about five years now, I’ve spent a lot of my time writing about… erm… writing. Writing about writing, with nothing to show for it. For a while, somewhere back towards the end of 2021, I thought I would pursue those dreams of being a published writer once more. But, as you will have seen, …

I spend months and years on a project I believe in. I invest all of my emotional energy in striving for perfection. This time, I’ll do it right. But as soon as it’s completed, the doubts set in. Soon enough, I can’t stand the sight of it. Every time I reopen it, I slam it …

Some people suffer from writer’s block. I suffer from writer’s anxiety. On the one hand, I find myself with a compulsion to write. On the other hand, I fear being read. “Why not just pour your words into a private journal then, to be read by no one at all?” A fair point, for many …

I am asked what happened to my writing — that novel I thought I was on the verge of publishing three years ago. Let’s just call it a great hiatus. Right now, it lies abandoned for the simple reason that I believe it made me ill. Hypertension. Accute anxiety. Depression. Extreme writer’s doubt. Call it …

A reader gets in touch to say they’re planning to start a blog of their own, and asks for my advice on writing consistently. Unfortunately for the reader, I’m not a professional writer capable of offering sage advice on good habits to avoid procrastination. I write because I’m not a talker. In fact, for many …

The critic made me give up writing fiction for a decade. Their review was so scathing that I couldn’t hear the positive feedback of others. It was so publicly assertive that I swore to pulp every copy and cease writing for good. Suddenly, their critique held greater authority than even my own experience.  Though others …

My mind is so noisy. Maybe it’s time I exchanged writing for meditation.