Sometimes I feel like my compositions are just off. My scripts lack honesty and clear focus. I sound like a dick. I struggle with self-doubt and low self-esteem. Furthermore, I thought weekly blogging would reinforce my confidence, but it hasn't. Normally, an abundance of creative imagination results in blunt, concise, and straightforward prose characterized by sexual magnetism and a touch of humor. However, I have yet to find an 'aha moment' and a technique that is casually provocative and mentally enthusing. What turns into an enchanting and beautifully scripted post makes you feel like you have found your inner soul. Soul in the prose.
I must admit that I lack the ease and ability to spin tales that sound naturally human and charm with emulation because I tend to express myself in abstractions. It does not translate into what I conscientiously craft. Rare are the moments when I muse and reflect deeply on something that is authentic and has never been heard before. Consequently, I end up sounding like the dry prose of a car owner's manual. I bet you know what normally happens to those booklets. Car owners' manuals are seldom perused and internalized to find out the underlying quirks and features that the car has the potential to offer. They are booklets that are overlooked because it is tedious to skim through dense information, even though they have tidbits of knowledge that could be enlightening and educational. I doubt if the "Mitumba" second-hand vehicles sold in Kenya come with the booklet.
Instead of taking time to glance through the manual, you jump straight into driving or, as a passenger, sit comfortably en route to your final destination. Which is valid and perfectly fine. What if we took the time to read the car manuals? Would there have been any difference? Car owner's manual publishers should have curated content that is interesting and enjoyable to read. Maybe use grade-four reading-level language that is easy to comprehend. However, they are typically filled with voluminous content and legalese, use complex language that is devoid of interactive elements, and contain irrelevant information. This leads someone to prefer straightforward advice from salesmen, friends, and relatives on how the car works.
Maybe, I am boring as opposed to seductive. My clarity of thought has no segue and is non-congruent. I have no brevity; hence, I sound like a car owner's manual. My storytelling skills are probably chaotic and lack the emotional spark that ignites interest. I can't consume fiercely and intensely, burn into ashes like a colossal blaze that draws you in. You feel like you have gotten lost in the prose—the way you dream and wake up only to find you are making castles in the air. Waking up after a dream is rarely creative.
You might be enjoying an erotic dream only to wake up clod in cum or piss. Unfortunately, urinating is among the few dreams that often come true. These are the struggles that afflict. You cannot run away from them. Being average can feel overwhelming. Sometimes, you can showcase brilliance and sage. Other times you grapple with trying to inject insightful realism into a scene in such a way that it impresses. Still, you have to be content even when you lack a unique verbal expression or linguistic flair. Over time, the gibberish will slowly transform into sound, credible content, offering the reader an unequivocal grasp of the subject.
We are surrounded by mediocrity. When you look around, you will realize that we tend to settle for the least, provided we inject minimal effort. We are reluctant to push ourselves to greater heights and avoid mediocrity. Once we have done our part, we leave the onus of decision-making, if the output is viable, in the hands of others. Or, if you were in my shoes, you write crap and cling to the hope that someday, you will be a good writer. The few who pursue excellence by stepping out of their comfort achieve remarkable feats and greatness that we only envy and do nothing about.
There are days when I sit down to pore over the works of renowned authors and feel ashamed of what I have written. I am trying hard to avoid being subpar, but I am not making any inroads. I constantly remind myself that fortune favors the brave and consistent, so I keep on keeping on. I am still in the game. Thank goodness, I am not the type to compare my compositions directly to those of great authors. As an amateur, I prefer to stick to what I know, yearning for an elusive spark that elevates my creativity. But my creative works still lack that special thing that I want them to have. I have ambitions bigger than the input provided, which makes me wonder if I have a mediocre mindset.
From a young age, I was brought up to believe that I was the best in my endeavors. And for a long time, I believed it. Yet, my best does not seem good enough. And that begs the question: Should I strive to eliminate this mediocrity? Of what use! I have always said that failing to plan is planning to fail. Ironically, I fall into the category of chaps who are averse to meticulous planning. I get derailed and forgo excellence because I have settled for comfort. I prefer to have modest competence. I am not as dedicated as someone who secludes himself for a few months to pursue deep work and achieve mastery, so you can't afford to ignore the high-quality content produced. At least, I engage in my pursuits as a hobby and not as a prodigy. It's fun to outpour emotions freely. Provided you set boundaries to avoid being offensive or rattling others in the way that is piquing.
When you read about successful people, what comes to mind is that they are innate geniuses who are naturally talented and don't have to put in the work that results in success. All they have to do is show up, and voilà, they are a big name with fame and glory. They only find a gap that needs to be filled and do it effortlessly because it is as easy as ABC. Yet, it could be that they put in a humongous amount of work in the past and only have to refine the crap. We see the final output, which is polished and consumable. What we don't see is the number of years it took and the effort and wit of having figured out what works and what does not. Success is never predestined, there is a lot behind the scenes that shapes its outcome.
Time passes in a blur. When you realize you can no longer be successful, you take little interest in pursuing excellence and embrace mediocrity because that is where you find happiness. There is contentment in simplicity. You might work your ass off trying to gain traction, but as I sometimes say, your best effort may not be worthwhile and significant enough. Ergo, you start doing it for fun and become passionate about it. It becomes a hobby that becomes your baby. You have to teach it to wean, crawl, talk, walk, and go through all the phases of life. You stumble, roll over, and then find your footing. If it was meant to be, then it shall blossom. Even though a mustard seed takes longer to grow, once it has grown, it provides shade, and you can hardly remember its humble beginnings as a tiny seed.
Hasta La Vista, Baby.
