I sit down to write at my dining room table, but first I must tuck away all the unnecessary stuff lingering there. After I’m done returning the stray dishes back to their place in the kitchen and setting the kids’ toys aside along with a hairbrush and a toothbrush, I start writing again. Almost two minutes in, I find myself surrounded by three inquisitive children of different ages, whom I try to ignore and get over and done with the piece at hand. My 6-year-old stands there admiring my hasty handwriting and comments on how beautiful it is. I absentmindedly thank him while I write. My 2-year-old roams around my chair with a look on his face that spells that he’s up to no good. I glance at him nervously and try my best to stay focused. My supposedly sane 10-year-old, out of nowhere, attempts to engage me in a conversation about her friends at school, naming at least three of her friends to further relate some incidents about them. With my eyes focused on my writing pad, I slowly apologize that I am not able to talk right now as I have something to do. Then my naughty two-year-old toddler suddenly finds an interesting sliding material that is my back and happily bumps up and down on it! I once again take my writing seriously, trying to forget about my current, messy situation and an impending dinner time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is a random scene that often takes place at my place the moment I get inspiration to write. In fact, many writing (and even typing) sessions I have endured through similar situations to the above. I was never, however, the kind of person to deal with that kind of disorderliness though. I had previously perfect ideas about the best way to write an article or essay or even a poem. The ideal writing situation would be to sit at my neat and tidy desk, a mug of warm coffee sitting next to my pen and paper, along with a bottle of water for hydration. Complete silence should fill the whole place, children asleep or nowhere to be seen. My phone should be in a far room where I cannot hear it when it rings. And it would be awesome if I could sit by a lovely lake or a garden. Then I realized that my effortful attempts shouldn’t be near perfect. Why do I still expect perfection of myself even when it comes to the drafting or notes phase, not the finished article? I wonder to myself.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Let me share an analogy I often think about here. The process of writing a piece, any piece of writing, is like that of putting together a puzzle. You search for a couple of pieces for the corners because they stick out, then you start building around them. You get a couple of pieces you thought would\u00a0go together somewhere in the centre but turns out they would not. You then go on to find a couple more pieces here and there until you have several connected 4- or 5-piece parts and here is where you start to develop your puzzle quite quickly until you have all the pieces connected together and making sense. That’s how ideas progress and that’s how it usually is: a slow, but sure progression with a few failed attempts along the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
The beauty of being a writer lies in the weaving of meaningful words from the chaos of our mind, from the storm our brain projects. After I witnessed the birth of one elaborate article amidst the hustle and bustle of the everyday and my kids’ mess, I must say that a little chaos and dishevelment here and there are key to creativity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I sit down to write at my dining room table, but first I must tuck away all the unnecessary stuff lingering there. After I’m done returning the stray dishes back to their place in the kitchen and setting the kids’ toys aside along with a hairbrush and a toothbrush, I start writing again. Almost two minutes<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":247,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-literature-literary","category-random-thoughts"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/01\/etienne-girardet-ZBqdHL7Yycc-unsplash.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=111"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":249,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions\/249"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/247"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=111"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=111"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/khadiga.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=111"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}