After an insightful experience from doing my doctoral work, I realize that creative writing is a better dream to nurture than does scientific research. Like they say, some times we tend to become professional but midway lose our passion. I felt it. People around have been asking me if I felt relieved after submitting my thesis. I really was searching for the right word to describe my feeling, because it was not relieved. It was something else. It was like a search for something so dearly that I lost. I was smiling like I was relieved, may be, but that smile had to push through lots of empty space deep within rather than be gracefully dancing.

My friend recently has written about keeping life on an auto-pilot, and that was well-timed so far as my reading goes. There are several ways that I could take to bring myself back into a self-control mode, but all those ways look equally vague and perhaps very little attracting. That, you could argue, is again an effect of the auto-pilot system.

To feel better, I chose to recall a few things good about myself. First, I really gave up on tea/coffee, so successfully keeping to my new year resolution. Second, I love running, and I am doing it almost regularly. Third, I like to live through books, and I picked up a couple of rejuvenating books from my old professor friend, and read them up. Fourth, there were occasions when people had things to say, and I had actions to respond. That last one especially makes me feel resilient. But none of them still gives me the feeling that I am searching for.

This empty space is, I guess, because of the long held desire to become a writer that people read. After all, writing is for readership, isn’t it? What this thought can trigger are many different starts of an idea that could go on to be a long story, but I cut them short since I do not know if it is so good having so many possible starts. I am perplexed and am stuck not knowing whether my method is beginning to consume me. Or should I be worried about the method at all? Sometimes I almost begin writing a story, “And he died. —“, that could probably become a good suspense-thriller, but I am not interested in developing an idea that has such an extreme beginning. On other occasions, I pen down a line, “There she was.—“, and then I recall all those love stories and begin wondering if there aren’t already enough love stories around. And then on those moments when endorphin kicks in, I begin writing, “I thought on that long night…“, and then I check if I am getting a little too lost with how fascinating my life is. There are several others I do not mention here, because I am afraid that all those starters might be stolen (they are intellectual property of the dreamer in me, after all!).

Is that a problem that every writer has gone through? If yes, then it is good, because probably I am on the way to becoming one. If no, then even better, because I am richer by experiencing such a range of feelings before I began writing. Is there then a cause for concern? I believe yes, because I do not know when I can officially start.

And hence I wonder, “How do I start?“

Oops, by the way, have I given away my best starter? Or was it the end!