A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of engaging with fellow writers at the 16th Time of the Writer festival in Durban, SA for a week of brilliant debate, book reviews and conversations about 'what makes writing work'. I returned from the festival with renewed vigor and passion to continue this brand of activism. But also, I returned with the realization that as much as I'd like to use my writing to create the conversations that will affect shifts, bit by bit, in personal and political consciousness, it takes great strength and energy to continue to write. All the writer really wants to do, is to write, but with writing comes this demand to be more than the creative mixer or words. If anything, the first demand is clarity. No mixing of words here. And more so, is the reflective process that comes with writing, creating. Intentions clearly defined, one might often be put to the test by encountering fellow creatives whose objectives might either clash or be aligned with ones own. Alignment is superb. It reminds that this whole deal of writing, extending ones self and breaking the zombie consciousness is not such a dreary, lonely thing after all. These are the real creatives; the ones who spur you on and remind you that there were no guarantees of eternal pleasure, but that the rewards will reveal themselves in good time. That to write is to give birth; the joy, the pain and the pride of being part of something potentially amazing is what it's all about. The real challenge, is the not so odd encounter of persons who become more addicted to the pseudo celebrity focus upon them, and then guard their perceived space with childish recklessness. It is these that I hope to avoid. Every so often. More so, than not.
Beyond that, this life will demand more writing. I'm quite certain of it.
Purpose is a promise. May the intention for common good and the humility to understand creativity as an ocean bigger than individual self, never evade us.
Warmest regards, gratitude,
Mao, McDonnell, and Mirth
11 hours ago