Long time no talk! These last days have been full of things to do, books to read, places to go to, people to meet. I’ve finished writing a prequel taken from the paranormal trilogy I’ve written and I’ve published it for free. In these days, my life can be pretty well summoned by two words: writing and music. I’m spending my mornings at the conservatory, studying piano for my graduation exam next July. Everyday my alarm rings at 6.30 and I get up, I have a shower, I take the bus and, after the arrival, I stop by a bar on the road in order to write or translate or edit something or doing anything else which concerns Microsoft Word. Then, I go to the conservatory. Everyday. I’ve found out that this kind of daily routine is really productive and that I’m writing very much and that the piano pieces are getting well as if after a long illness. This routine obliges me to be alone most of the time. D’u know what? Who cares! Solitude can be a useful ally if you’re carrying on creative works. Sometimes, creativity needs silence. No one speaking, no one interrupting. Just yourself and your music and your art and whatever you’re doing. What else?
Here where I live, in this little town in the south of Italy, November is the month with the highest number of fairs. It starts with a big fair in a little town next to mine and it goes on with another in my native town. November smells like oranges and roasted chestnuts and popcorn and sugar. November smells like pouring rain and grey sky. I love this month that is a bridge between summer and winter, the main part of autumn. For me, this is also the period of time in which I’ve to make my decisions and my English test. I don’t know where I’ll be living next year and which language I’ll be speaking. What I know is the incredible atmosphere of this (perhaps) last November in Italy. And I’m gonna enjoy it ‘til the end.
I’ve been taking a journal since my 6th grade. “What a childish thing to do!”, some among you could say. Yes, maybe it is, but it’s also a useful practice, as I’m gonna explain to you. For instance, think about a big crush you have upon a nice boy. You write everything about him and about the “déroulement” of your crush. At some point, something goes wrong. Then, you come back to your journal, you read it again from the beginning to the end, and suddenly you understand WHY something’s gone wrong. A private journal always hides the truth. Maybe it’s because we’re completely honest while writing it: we know no one else would read it. On the contrary, when we rethink of some memories of ours, often we slightly edit them, maybe in order to preserve ourselves from the rush of truth. Truth is seldom nice to look at.
There’s also another reason at least that should convince you to take a journal. When you’re writing for yourself only, you can experiment your creativity and let it increase. If you like drawing figures but you’re still insecure about how they look, you can practice on your journal and nobody is gonna watch them. If you like writing poems but you just don’t feel like someone should read them, here we are again: write them down on your journal.
So, now maybe it’s clear why I keep doing this “childish thing”. Make a try and let me know if it works for the best 🙂
As a writer, I’ve always had to deal with the problem of the blank page. How many times have we opened a Word file just in order to spend our time watching powerless at the empty page? So much to Say, so much to give, but with The nightmare of The “beginning” standing still. If there’s something I’ve learned by experience, it’s that the kind of confusion we feel when we start writing something new is fundamental. We need that moment of despair to find out what we really want to communicate to others and why we’re doing what we’re doing.
There’s nothing to be scared of: blank Pages are a part of The creative process. Just make a coffee, listen to your favourite songs, browse The most inspiring Pinterest walls. Force yourself to Write The first, fearful word. The others will come next. Don’t be anxious, don’t be afraid. Writing is fun and it’s always catharsis, so enjoy it and don’t mind being so confused. Just make yourself through. You can definitely do that.
I’ve always loved coffee, perhaps because it’s been part of my education. When I was a little child, my mother used to make me taste some of her coffee, even if with a lot of Sugar, of course. I grew up with that smell that suddenly became the smell of my home and affections, The smell of love and care. It was the smell that fulfilled my grandparents’ home when they woke up at 4 o’clock after their afternoon rest and I was waiting for them to come in The kitchen, playing with my drawings and my puzzles. And then, when I was at high school, The time of coffee meant The beginning of my homeworks, but it was in such a way comforting. My mother, my father and I, all together at The kitchen table, drinking Coffee as a family From the movies. Besides, there were The summer holidays and all that little cafés where We spent our Time together and every stranger place suddenly became just like Home. That’s what I meant when I’ve said that coffee was part of my education.
Now that I’m 24 and I spend a lot of time alone and I’m gonna leave my country, Coffee is my Home-to-Go. Wherever I am, I carry my Home and my family with me. And I have to thank my parents because That’s their most important gift.