by Adele Aava
There is always somebody who knows you better than you do!
There is always someone who knows how to do everything from birth.
And guess what? There are hundreds of thousands of those somebodies and you probably won’t still be done reading their how-tos when they are putting you into grave.
When did all this become a trend?
When did we all become the niche market for the bloggers’ unsubstantiated claims to make us powerful happy people flourishing to our fullest potential, when they, themselves, need our thumbs-up to pay their bills?
Where did all fans of art and literature learn they needed so many workshops, YouTube videos and Instagram instructions before they finally start DOING what they like?
Is it really what we need? To go on reading other people’s opinions on how to do something about what we know is our innate talent?
Well; let me share MY experience on this.
Ever since I was a little kid, I really really really wanted to devote myself to literature. This dream of mine had its roots in my dad being an amateur poet, a member of the local poetry club and a casual fan of the classics. He had me recite pieces of poetry he had assigned me to memorize, and did not believe children should and could read poems suitable for their own age. In his eyes, I was the precocious literature prodigy who knew words bigger than her own mouth and could therefore, make a great poet.
I as a five-year-old, on the other hand, had little stamina for such an irksome laborious task; later on, I started showing interest in prose, which I found easier both to understand and produce, especially with my school essays, for which I was paid enormous compliments. I had little, if any access to books of my own age group and childrens’ magazines were my only sources of reading. We were not living in a big city and getting my hands on books was not the easiest thing. As a result, I deviated significantly from my dream path.
Studying the English language and literature at university rekindled the extinguished fire of that passion in me. Suddenly, the whole thirst for a literary career…