I feel comfy writing in English in Medium. Do not know why. Some of my friends decide to write their writings offline and only published asthonishing one in public. I decide differently, I know I am going to be a great writer. I mean it. Therefore, I supposed to leave my writings journey everywhere. Why? here is the reason. As a historian and bookworms, a story of a writer spiced up the writings, by understanding a writer’s life, one could construct how s/he/their lives and live events that affected their thoughts and writing. On the other hand, writing is more a process than a final result. I cannot turned out as a great writer without thousands of bad-writings before. People and the readers supposed to know writing as a labor. They should see me struggle, my bad writings, my slightly better one, a writings that postulates my thoughs on several situation, a psychotic one, a sense of revenge. Writing comes from within, the thought, the emotions. Since I choose material studies for my theory focus, I develop the analytical tools to understand engagement between writings, reading medium and reader. I want to write something that last, that engage with reader, full of emotion and readers and even the readers could easily sense my emotion, relating my experience and thoughts to theirs, develop a sense of someone who understand you, a feeling that you never alone. A thought, a contradictions, a connection. I let emotion conquer me while building a statement and feel everything surrounds me, it could bother me sometimes but I let my self feel it, I force my self to feel it. Then I priority things I want to focus on. Is it my eyes in front of my laptop screen, is it tickling on my right arm? or fish in front of me?
Writing is a struggle, isn’t it?
Imagine that this writing won’t be my greatest one, I know. But it’s better to have the bad one but published rather a good one but nobody knows. But it really depending on the writer’s intention though, my writing energy in public is to prove. To prove my big family that I am not disgrace as they thought. When I was start writing, around 2014 they disregard my writings and hoping I cut off my self off from our big family because of my fucking writing. And I did. Ever since I never come to them every lebaran or invite them to my wedding. They are no longer my family and please do not admit I am part of your family too. I didn’t stop what I ave been doing when you disgraced me and I won’t stop. I don’t forgive and forget.
So I write, in public. I kick their butts with my publication. My fame. A fame that I build not in a day. If they do not want to be proud of me selecting writer and historian as my career because it is not a common middle-class job. I ain’t a doctor, army or economist? oh damn it! My father is an accountant and you all didn’t accept him cause he came from a village. He might be a villagers, but he raised me well and let me be whatever I want. Beside, he gave me this beautiful looks and hard-working ethic. He taught me to see people from their efforts and persistence, not social classes they came from. I write in public, so my father, who read newspaper everyday could see my writings in there and proudly show to his colleges that her daughter wrote in public. Her daughter is living happily cause she pursue what she love and he support it. My father and mother were the only family who never complain of my reading habits, and let me be whatever I want. I know they are not sure either if I could success or not but they believe in me. And I’ll prove them I will. I will do. As a writer, I’ll be great for centuries.