I WROTE THE STORY OF MY LIFE BUT NEVER ONCE DID I STOP TO READ IT

I wrote the story of my life but never once did I stop to read it.

 

Words, plots, characters gushed out of me, yet never once did I take the time to see

 

If the words were apt, if the plot had inner consistency, if the characters were realistic and likeable.

 

Not once did I peruse the footnotes and attempt to research further the story I was writing.

 

Not once did I check for for the minor spelling and grammar errors nor contemplated whether indeed the whole construction of my work-in-progress was fundamentally flawed from the very first word on the very first page.

 

Never once did I  pay heed to the better advice of my elders, to keep a constant tone to my novel, to not portray realism as fantasy, to not turn tragedy into comedy,   

 

But recklessly I mixed passages of horror with passages of humour, blended magic realism with surrealism and clumsily juxtaposed soaring poetry with indifferent pedestrianism.

 

Not once did I look back to see if my story made any sense, leaving it instead to others to try and make sense of the story of my life.

 

And so preoccupied was I with the writing of this book that I forgot all about existence and my life instead became this book itself.

 

And now as I come to the final page, I think to myself:

 

 
Is there still time enough to begin the book anew?

Reviews

[Annelise]

I love the flow of this and I really love the idea. Being so wrapped up in writing that everything ceases to exist, not even enough time to check to see if what your writing makes sense, what a powerful idea. The last line is really thought provoking. When I write, everything ceases to exist and I let it flow out of me, even if the words don't make sense. That line:

"Not once did I look back to see if my story made any sense, leaving it instead to others to try and make sense of the story of my life"

Really struck a chord.

"Not once did I check for for the minor spelling and grammar errors nor contemplated whether indeed the whole construction of my work-in-progress was fundamentally flawed from the very first word on the very first page"

This also struck a chord, simply because I can relate to it. I notice that you write in first person alot, it is what I am comfortable writing with, I think it makes a piece increadibly personal.

[dead]

I often think that reading and writing is really the same thing; because even when you are reading something, you are never truly objective since reading is hermeneutical. Anyway, this reminds me of your story "waking up to life", because if you put them side by side they describe something really similar. To live, it always means to have lived, it is motion and if you are familiar with Heraclitus: it is flux. I think taht if you were to anayluze your 'story', you would not be living anymore. Anyway, like the poem, you think on a similar term as I do, namely that reality is narrative.

Steven

[Michey Sharp]

This is an outstaning piece...I love the way it flowed and took us through all the different aspects of living our lives in a manner that so many of us tend to do! I really liked this!

[Abby G.]

I once thought that once I got all of my obstacles out of the way, my life would begin. Then I realized that those obstacles were my life.This piece is so relatable. I think it pertains to the entire human race.

[Bubo]

And so preoccupied was I with the writing of this book that I forgot all about existence and my life instead became this book itself
And now as I come to the final page, I think to myself
Is there still time enough to begin the book anew?

A very intelligent, thought provoking piece, ending with a sharp reminder that life is ours, and how tragic that we ask that question really when life is so precious it needs to be lived to the full..
But, life is a book, of words, chapters, and thoughts.........and at the end we look back on our book and can only hope we have fulfilled dreams, been loved and given love and lived a decent life..............for that book is passed down through generations.
I love the way you write...........its really something to think about.

[Bella Marie]

Hmmm... "Is there still time enough to begin the book anew?"... what a good question, I sometimes wish I could begin my book anew, take out the sorrow and painfull scences, add in my humor and love...but...I think to myself...if I took these out...it would take away from the book, those things are what gives the book depth and strength...perhaps I can write a new chapter...but chose not to begin the book again...

I really enjoy so far from what I have read...I enjoy the way your brain thinks, and how you can put so much beauty into a short piece. Well done.

"And so preoccupied was I with the writing of this book that I forgot all about existence and my life instead became this book itself"

A powerful lesson written here...thankyou for makingme ponder it.

Love Bella
XXX