A little experiment in writing
#WriterBlocked #ForwardReverse
So, here's me writing about writing about food. You see, I have had the writer's block for some time. It is said that when you have a writer's block, sometimes the best solution is to just write.
And this is just such a scenario with me trying to unclog my mind and free my imagination from the shackles of "the block". You see, when I cannot think of what to write, I write about food. In fact, food brings out the poet in me, or so I like to believe (perhaps a little vainly).
Because this morning, I woke up wanting to write...about food. But why? It is a feeling I cannot shake, or explain. Yes, I could write about Tasha & Girl. After all, jams are my life, for now. I could write about fruits, and sugar, and spice, and the travails of a startup entrepreneur. I could write about my attempts to break into this gigantic FMCG food market.
Or I could write about the various places I have eaten in recently, or even way back in time but which have stayed so long in my memories that they have taken on the same feelings I have for an old soft toy I played with in my childhood, but cannot get myself to discard even decades after I have stopped actually playing with it. Or maybe about the industry of feeding people that thrives on a satisfied customer with a full stomach, at times even at the cost of making a profit. I could narrate incidents that brought a smile to my face and comfort to my soul through a satisfied feeling of fullness in my stomach and a taste that would linger on my tongue for hours after I ate the last morsel. Maybe I could write about the emotions and feelings that arise in one's core when one is treated like royalty, and mention the times I have had such service that has lightly picked up, gently caressed, and gingerly placed my fragile ego on an altar of soft cushions in eateries around the world, where the food wasn't perhaps up there with the best of the best, but I left the establishment walking on clouds because of how I was treated.
But I cannot decide, because my mind keeps starting off in a direction and ending at the same place, like going in circles, not knowing whether I am going in forward or reverse.
I could do this, I could do that, I could do this and that!
But I cannot decide, because my mind keeps starting off in a direction and ending at the same place, like going in circles, not knowing whether I am going in forward or reverse.
Maybe I could write about the emotions and feelings that arise in one's core when one is treated like royalty, and mention the times I have had such service that has lightly picked up, gently caressed, and gingerly placed my fragile ego on an altar of soft cushions in eateries around the world, where the food wasn't perhaps up there with the best of the best, but I left the establishment walking on clouds because of how I was treated. I could narrate incidents that brought a smile to my face and comfort to my soul through a satisfied feeling of fullness in my stomach and a taste that would linger on my tongue for hours after I ate the last morsel. Or maybe about the industry of feeding people that thrives on a satisfied customer with a full stomach, at times even at the cost of making a profit. Or I could write about the various places I have eaten in recently, or even way back in time but which have stayed so long in my memories that they have taken on the same feelings I have for an old soft toy I played with in my childhood, but cannot get myself to discard even decades after I have stopped actually playing with it.
I could write about my attempts to break into this gigantic FMCG food market. I could write about fruits, and sugar, and spice, and the travails of a startup entrepreneur. After all, jams are my life, for now. Yes, I could write about Tasha & Girl. It is a feeling I cannot shake, or explain. But why? Because this morning, I woke up wanting to write...about food.
In fact, food brings out the poet in me, or so I like to believe (perhaps a little vainly). You see, when I cannot think of what to write, I write about food. And this is just such a scenario with me trying to unclog my mind and free my imagination from the shackles of "the block".
It is said that when you have a writer's block, sometimes the best solution is to just write. You see, I have had the writer's block for some time. So, here's me writing about writing about food.
#BlockedWriter #ReverseForward
So, here's me writing about writing about food. You see, I have had the writer's block for some time. It is said that when you have a writer's block, sometimes the best solution is to just write.
And this is just such a scenario with me trying to unclog my mind and free my imagination from the shackles of "the block". You see, when I cannot think of what to write, I write about food. In fact, food brings out the poet in me, or so I like to believe (perhaps a little vainly).
Because this morning, I woke up wanting to write...about food. But why? It is a feeling I cannot shake, or explain. Yes, I could write about Tasha & Girl. After all, jams are my life, for now. I could write about fruits, and sugar, and spice, and the travails of a startup entrepreneur. I could write about my attempts to break into this gigantic FMCG food market.
Or I could write about the various places I have eaten in recently, or even way back in time but which have stayed so long in my memories that they have taken on the same feelings I have for an old soft toy I played with in my childhood, but cannot get myself to discard even decades after I have stopped actually playing with it. Or maybe about the industry of feeding people that thrives on a satisfied customer with a full stomach, at times even at the cost of making a profit. I could narrate incidents that brought a smile to my face and comfort to my soul through a satisfied feeling of fullness in my stomach and a taste that would linger on my tongue for hours after I ate the last morsel. Maybe I could write about the emotions and feelings that arise in one's core when one is treated like royalty, and mention the times I have had such service that has lightly picked up, gently caressed, and gingerly placed my fragile ego on an altar of soft cushions in eateries around the world, where the food wasn't perhaps up there with the best of the best, but I left the establishment walking on clouds because of how I was treated.
But I cannot decide, because my mind keeps starting off in a direction and ending at the same place, like going in circles, not knowing whether I am going in forward or reverse.
I could do this, I could do that, I could do this and that!
But I cannot decide, because my mind keeps starting off in a direction and ending at the same place, like going in circles, not knowing whether I am going in forward or reverse.
Maybe I could write about the emotions and feelings that arise in one's core when one is treated like royalty, and mention the times I have had such service that has lightly picked up, gently caressed, and gingerly placed my fragile ego on an altar of soft cushions in eateries around the world, where the food wasn't perhaps up there with the best of the best, but I left the establishment walking on clouds because of how I was treated. I could narrate incidents that brought a smile to my face and comfort to my soul through a satisfied feeling of fullness in my stomach and a taste that would linger on my tongue for hours after I ate the last morsel. Or maybe about the industry of feeding people that thrives on a satisfied customer with a full stomach, at times even at the cost of making a profit. Or I could write about the various places I have eaten in recently, or even way back in time but which have stayed so long in my memories that they have taken on the same feelings I have for an old soft toy I played with in my childhood, but cannot get myself to discard even decades after I have stopped actually playing with it.
I could write about my attempts to break into this gigantic FMCG food market. I could write about fruits, and sugar, and spice, and the travails of a startup entrepreneur. After all, jams are my life, for now. Yes, I could write about Tasha & Girl. It is a feeling I cannot shake, or explain. But why? Because this morning, I woke up wanting to write...about food.
In fact, food brings out the poet in me, or so I like to believe (perhaps a little vainly). You see, when I cannot think of what to write, I write about food. And this is just such a scenario with me trying to unclog my mind and free my imagination from the shackles of "the block".
It is said that when you have a writer's block, sometimes the best solution is to just write. You see, I have had the writer's block for some time. So, here's me writing about writing about food.
#BlockedWriter #ReverseForward
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