This is an odd analogy, but bear with me.
Being a writer is like having a leaky tap with a plastic bag over it. The tap leaks and water comes out and it collates in the bag and you can ignore it for a while but eventually the bag gets full. You either take the bag off and the water all spills out and the tap continues to leak, or you put a little hole in the bag and it can leak out slowly. The consequences of ignoring the bag full of water is that it eventually gets too heavy for the tap and you’ll break the tap, the bag or both. The result is the same. You’ll get water everywhere and it’ll be a big mess.
The point of this blog is to put a hole in the plastic bag of water that is my life. It has been collating for about 26 years now and it’s time that I started to let it out. If I don’t start to write down some of the stuff that’s been bottling up in me for those 26 years, then my brain will literally melt and pour out my ears and *poof*, that’ll be the end of Elenya.
Okay, so that was melodramatic. Melodrama is something I do very well.
I’m not going to lie. This is self-indulgent, likely to be exaggerated and probably not terribly happy much of the time either. It will however be honest. And if you’re not interested, you don’t have to keep reading. I won’t be offended if you take one look and decide not to bother. Nobody is making you read. But I will keep writing. I am compelled to write. I can’t bottle it up any longer.
This is a journey I am not sure I will enjoy. But I expect it will be interesting, even if only to me.