On Writing

 I am having a hard time elaborating ideas through argumentative writing, more comfortable laying it out in form of stories. But here I’m trying to tell you a bit of me on my writing.

The reason why writing is alluring for me is that its constant changing of the motivation behind it. Writing is a very mysterious process and I believe that what applies to me not necessarily can be done by others. My drive to write a novel will always be different, conditioned to what stole my affinity at that time. Yes, I’ve been using writing as a cathartic media, writing as the way to escape from the reality or the oppression, writing as the way to connect and to understand other people through the characters that I’m creating—it’s like putting on their shoes, writing because it was fun and endearing because I was in love with the characters, writing because I believe in the storyline, writing because I’m being paid to do so, writing because I have something to say, the need to speak for speechless for example, there’s agenda or no agenda—I have been them and probably more reason to come. And that what’s writing for me, it’s never boring. But to write in search of validation has never been one of them, and is what I’m avoiding.
I am not necessarily a purist in art but how can I explain myself if I just told you that I simply love writing and that is all. I used to think that I would like people to see myself as a writer despite my gender, my religion, my social or economic or sexual orientation, but the epiphany came to me that it was rather an immature thought. My everything of me what shaped my writing. That is all reflected from the idea that I choose or characters that I write or how I run my sentences which makes the difference.
And so, where’s my limit? There’s no limit. The thought of limit that limits the creativity. I can write shits that I want on my chair in my laptop just between me and my fingers and blank Microsoft word, probably in underwear and a mug of hot coffee and nobody watches. The activity is personal and liberating and less technical. That is just me being me.
Anyway, I am still learning how to write, and I will never stop. And I’m very happy because I just had a bowl of mie ayam. Greatness!
Yours,
Keanuril Basreeves
(*this is my new pen name as suggested by my brother)