It’s been a few months, and I still haven’t found my “voice” with this blog. There are so many things I want to share, so much I need to complain about, so much I want to say.
At first I had intended this some sort of cooking blog, with one recipe and a little story for every post, but it didn’t take long to discover the downs of that. I don’t have the patience or appetite to test bake and perfect every recipe, and even so I don’t have enough ideas. Then, I had the idea of making myself a cultural journalist – books, movies and music – which turned out better. I won’t abandon that. Only that doesn’t cover everything I want to say. I want to discuss ethics and philosophy, lifestyle and society. Maybe even politics at some point. Nice profile, huh? Scones and scars.
I do like my sprawling topics, it’s nice being able to write about anything. When I do. Sometimes I hold back from posting things because they’ve already been said too many times. Sometimes I think I might regret them later on – try reading old facebook updates and you’ll see what I mean. At other times I don’t feel like I have any right to write things; as much as I feel sorry for people, how can I write about things I never experienced? It’s easy to cuddle up on the couch and feel sorry for those who can’t – it’s hard trying to imagine what it feels like.
This is probably the issue with most teenager book writers – the ones with a confused kid in “the society of today” where the author doesn’t get it at all. The kind of book where the moral takes over the story completely, where the ending is happy but the journey most important. Well, those are awful and I’m afraid the result will be like that if I try to write about things I never experienced. At the same time someone has to fight injustice and if the victims don’t, who will? Not just victims actually – I try to write fiction and the hardest part (well, one of them) is making a somewhat realistic portrait of a person who is nothing like me.