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I Write What I Like

I don’t write for other people. I write for myself. At times my writing feels like a form of literary masturbation – my very own wank-fest of verbal indulgence in which I attempt to share my world view whilst playing games with language and style. The rest of the time I am just flirting with my muse. I try to find her soul. I burrow for her wit, her intelligence, her warmth. I want to make her laugh. I want her to dance with me on the page. I want to engage her in a pseudo -intellectual debate.

Don’t get me wrong, like all other writers, I want to be read and shared and discussed. (Just ask the friends I harass whenever I have a new blog post up.) When I write I think about the best way to convey my message and I hope that my words will have an impact. I may write with you in mind, but I would never say that I write for you. I absolutely write for myself (for my sanity, my enjoyment, my expression, my growth etc.) I write to reduce the grip of my regrets.

Even when I’m deciding what I want to write about, I usually make those decisions on the basis of the topics that I feel most passionate about and the ones around which I think I can make the strongest and most interesting arguments. I know all this seems to go against all laws of blogging especially. It probably won’t improve my site views or make me your favourite blogger, but for the most part, I’m okay with that. I am not a blogger. Somebody lied. I am a writer – who blogs. I would love for more people to read and comment on my blog, but I am not going to write for the explicit purpose of trying to get them to read or comment on it.

Let it be known. I will write forever. Why? Because, I believe my story is worth telling. I will write like no one is reading. I will not worry about people who don’t want to hear it. I will reach out to the people who do. In this great ocean of humanity we are all just trying to give voice to our own individuality. So if you don’t like mine or anybody else’s story write your own.

Writing is my second childhood. Writing is my Wilhelm scream. Writing is my Sensei. Writing is my heaven. Writing is my hell. Writing is my religion. Writing is my solitude. Writing is my friend. Writing is my journey. Writing is my home. Writing is my sex. Writing is my orgasm. Writing is my celibacy. Writing is my lover. Writing is my crush. Writing is my soul mate. Writing is my peace. Writing is my war. Writing is my freedom. Writing is my jail. .Writing is my struggle. Writing is my clarity. Writing is my curse. Writing is my gift. Writing is my triumph. Writing is my defeat.  Writing is my sport.  Writing is my high. Writing is my low.  Writing is my addiction. Writing is my voice. Writing is my art. Writing is my Excitable Cells. Writing is my Endocrine System. Writing is my Science. Writing is my Pied Piper. Writing is my Pilot Jones. Writing is my now. Writing is my forever. Writing is my fantasy. Writing is my reality. Writing is my first. Writing is my last. Writing is my Chimurenga.

Who am I? That’s not really important, but if you must call me Brother to the page.

Who am I? I am ‘The Borangoma

Who am I? I am a writer. I write what I like.

 

Written by Tafadzwa Tichawangana

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