Boo, here's a sentence...are you scared yet?
Jokes and my corniness aside, the complex vortex of writing has inevitably bombarded our lives. And quite frankly, it is our lives.
As innately curious and hungry (for curiosity and food) beings, thoughts constantly need to be expressed and recorded. The tangibility of writing transform concepts into actions and desires into fruition, yet some people become overwhelmed of a blank canvas, of a void piece of paper. You are staring from scratch. You create its end.
You are the master. You are your story.
And that, my friends, is the ghost of writer's past. The responsibility and uncertainty of such overwhelming control of letters and syntax and language and influence and ideas and potential controversies (is this article a horror movie yet?). Boundless possibilities become one's greatest discouragement, as calculated sentences and societal pressures dominate.
The same rationale, however, is what continuously motivates me to write, regardless of how absurd, senseless, or corny it may seem. One sentence can be disguised as an elongated paragraph, simply embellished by commas, hyphens, or nothing at all. The introduction can be the conclusion. The middle can become the end. Absurdity of thoughts can be endlessly supported by the right words, and finding the right ones is part of the literary thrill.
Want to trigger boundless glee? "Mashed potatoes." Sadness? "The Walking Dead Finale." More significantly, beyond such superficial bliss and burdens, and amidst the technicality of sentences, underlying meanings help readers find solace, motivation, and themselves. From John Green, to Nathaniel Hawthorne, to your diary entry, innovation always ensues---greatness is within each crevice of the periods.
Sure, school essays and thesis papers may not have the same spontaneity, but regardless, own it. Make it your own.
A potential masterpiece is always on the works, and whether it is the next Pulitzer Prize winner or a grocery list, remember that in the end, you are the master of your piece. Always.
Until the next blank canvas creeping up on your computer, happy almost Halloween and happy typing.