blog entry #1

I don’t really know what the point of this entry is. But I’ve always toyed with the idea of keeping a journal or having an online blog and I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried both only to lose my interest before it could turn into something. I feel like I have a whole collection of missed chances and lost opportunities and they just keep piling up. I feel like I’m always too little too late to every trend and every party; unseen and unheard. I was here when blogging was a huge deal and I even managed to make friends while working on my first or second novel, but then I just let it go by the wayside. I guess that’s the story of my life. I always do that. That’s my thing. I even remember the time when LJ and Yahoo groups were popular and I was an active member! I started writing when I was still at school, ages ago, but wasted precious years on working and reworking the same novel so many times I somehow must have missed that point when I had a chance of finding an agent. But maybe I’m just deceiving myself: maybe there had never been a chance of that happening. Then, while others kept churning out novels and gaining readership, I stopped writing. I had reasons, health-related ones. By the time I started writing again, I lost touch with writers and bloggers I used to know when we all just started out. I envied their success, but deep down I knew that it was my fault that I was back at square one. The thing is that life goes too fast and I just watch it go by as I grow older and older without having accomplished anything of importance – without having accomplished anything I set out to accomplish. I’ve always wanted to be a writer and a beloved author. I wanted to have my books published, read, loved. I had big plans! I’ve written so many books that no one knows anything about and I have so many ideas that I want to turn into books, but what’s the point of putting them on paper when no one but me (with a few rare exceptions) likes what I write? And yet I keep writing as though anything will ever change. Though, to be perfectly honest, I write because I can’t live without writing and I think I’m pretty good at it, even though I have very little proof of that in terms of sales or readers or reviews. I think I know what the point of this entry is: it’s self-pity. Good thing that no one reads anything I write or gives a damn, really. Next time I might blog about a famous book series that I’m currently reading. I have a lot to say on the matter. Would anyone care to read about that? I might point out that there’s a comment section below, but I doubt that you have read that far.