Writing: What it means to me

It's been a whole month of writers block for me and at some point, I started to feel depression creep in. Throughout the period, I tried to scribble a few lines on more than one occasion only to get stuck after a few lines. It really was frustrating, having ideas and not being able to articulate into a decent write-up. At a point I figured, if I probably write something decent about my writers block, then I would have written something and put an end to the bad run.
During that month (august), I tried to write on a few occasions and the theme of my efforts was ‘Love’. I kept revisiting the issue of love partly because I was in an emotional upheaval as a result of a certain lady I was involved with, not responding positively to our venture together. The other reason why I kept attempting a decent write-up on the subject was the feedback I got from a certain blog article, ‘is love ever enough’. I realized that people find the love related articles more interesting than other subjects I write about on the blog. The failed attempts finally led me to a realization. It was more of a reminder of how and why I really started writing.
I was once involved in a leisurely group conversation with some friends when T-sparx said and I quote here: ‘these days, everybody that puts pen to paper consider themselves to be writers. Most of them make this claim for attention sake and it’s not funny’. When she said that, I wasn’t offended despite the fact that I was the only person in the group having the conversation that was so inclined i.e. that writes. That said, the how, why and when I really started writing involves a ‘situation’ I was faced with. I was going through a lot of internal turmoil in my being. Partly regret and partly comprehension, emotionally I was agonizing about my conducts and how they led to the ‘situation’. I was as close to depressed as one can get without being depressed. Writing provided me with an outlet to express everything I felt during that period. Before then, I had been scribbling down some thoughts and ideas but the outcome of what I wrote during and about that period led to ‘retrospective thoughts of a naughty boy’, this I consider to be my first real write-up.
This realization/reminder led to me understanding the real essence of writing, for me at least. Writing is born out of the conviction an individual has about a message and the need for it to be heard or read, as the case may be. Writing is the product of a critical analytic thought process. It doesn’t end there as how you tell the message is as important as what the message is, hence the need to practice and perfect one’s form and skill. From this understanding, I have formed a philosophy that guides me in my work as a writer, ‘The service required of every good writer is, to make people see through his/her eyes, that which they had previously been unable to see. A writer should make people see what they have not wished to see. Anyone who can achieve this has fulfilled his/he task as a writer’.
When I first wrote on the subject of love, I wanted you all to see what I realized from my personal experience, that love is never enough to sustain a relationship. Subsequent attempts to revisit the topic of love were my own lofty pursuits. My yearnings for critical acclaim over-rode my duties first as a writer. Then comes the question, ‘what is your source of inspiration?’ I’ve heard and read a lot of corny responses to this question. For me, inspiration comes from different sources, all accessible by my sense organs. Thank you for reading this, I am Gigi mosky and I am a writer.
“there is no such thing as an aspiring writer” Bayo Omisore