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Sunday, August 15, 2010

With love, "Encik Magi in Bali"

Why did I even try? Writing this.... this.... thing?

It just sucks all my good mood and all my happiness like some kind of a depression vacuum cleaner. Why don't I just write something simpler? Like a normal storyline where you do not have to put your heart and soul into it? Why am I being a pighead and try to write from conscience and all the ladidas?

I mean, here's a storyline. Woman A meets Man B, fell in love, and due to a weird circumstances, they broke up and 5 years later meet up again. That's like the textbook of all love stories, innit? But no..... Shai has to write something that rings true, something that people can relate to, something that will make people who stops reading reads again. Yada yada yada.

Writing is like gambling with your soul. Well, I can't say that and represents the whole community of novelists, but for me, that's what it is. It's putting yourself at your most vulnerable, at the same time listening to that inner voices that make up dialogues and scenes and well... anything that a psycho would feel, except that a writer can control the lunacy inside her head from spilling into real life.



Anyway, I always have writer's block every single time I am starting on a new project. I don't know what's others' understanding of that, but for me, it means that none of the characters I made made any development at all. They remain a one-dimensional character. I call it "Encik Magi pergi bercuti."

For those of you who yet to know who Encik Magi is, it's a skinny guy with Noh HUJAN hairdo and black rimmed spectacles who always has a bag pack and wears khakis instead of jeans. Fair-skinned. With zebra-striped shirt. My friends all knew about him. They know that when I am having a block, it means that Encik Magi has gone to Bali for vacation and left me behind. Dunno for how long.

Weird as it may sound, Encik Magi is the name I give for my imagination. What? Hey, people named their car, or teddy bears. Some even nicknamed their boobs. I have a name for the creative part of my brain. We're even. At least I'm only obsessed with my conscience, not my tits. And anyway, how I picture Encik Magi is in NO WAY has anything to do with how the man of my dreams look like. Don't have one.

But anyways (oyh, why do I always do this membebel thing), I think I need a vacation. I need an inspiration. I need to do all those cliches related to a writer. Thanks to PTPTN, Bali is out of the question. I mean, I had to cancel the plan for Uzbekistan and can't go to Gold Coast, and surely not the UK vacay my aunt talked about.

Thanks PTPTN!

And thanks to you too since I can't do overseas, it means I will not be given any Singapore jobs too (which is funny, since that was the reason I told Swee I will suck it up and do reviews again - oyh, Swee and her 'If-only-you-were' talk, even I can get scammed by it. Huhu). I wonder how much that would've helped me pay you back. Have you ever thought of that? Eyh, PTPTpu?

Okay, can't get mad when it is your own bloody fault in the first place....

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