Interesting how a movie can make one think about one’s life and purpose. Seven Years in Tibet is such a movie. One question that is asked of the lead character and his answer hit home with me. When asked why he loved climbing mountains, he answered that it was the absolute simplicity of it, the freedom, the focus … nothing else seems important, the mind is clear, light becomes sharper, sounds richer, one is filled with the presence of life.
I feel the same when I travel in other countries and write about it. When I visit the villages, churches, shops, and pubs, ride through the picturesque countrysides, meet the people and learn about the culture and history of each region … it all gives me a feeling of serenity and fulfillment and peace. And at the same time it’s overwhelming; I am filled to the brim with information and the desire to write about it, which is at times frustrating.
So when I see films such as the one above, or read novels of greatness, I’m even more overwhelmed and frustrated. Can I ever write at that level? How can I capture on paper what I experience and feel in this lifetime? And will it be of any interest to the readers? Will I only bore them with my take on life as it is, through my fictional characters and the plots I weave without giving in to the trends of popular fiction of the day? Can I afford to keep true to myself and write what I know?
I’m sure these are questions serious writers have been asking of themselves for ages, I’m not the only one with doubts and insecurities about my writing, but one thing I do know … if I don’t try, I’ll never know the answers. How does it go … better to have loved and failed than not to have loved at all … or something like that? Maybe it can be reworded to say … better to have written and failed than not to have written at all.
My New Year’s resolution is to write more than ever!