Three Years Devoted to Writing
- 3 days ago
- 8 min read
Life is so strange.
Before writing this post, I took a look at what I’d written about my first and second years. Reading about the state of mind I was in back then was interesting. My thoughts, feelings and excitement were so different then. Everything changes over time. That’s one of the inevitable consequences of time, after all.
On 20 June 2023, I embarked on an unexpected journey on Medium, encountering many obstacles along the way. Ultimately, though, I’m continuing along this path without veering off course or slowing down. My vehicle isn’t as spirited as it used to be, and I'm making my way in fits and starts. Sometimes I even come to a halt, delaying my arrival.
My writing journey is just like life itself: the rhythm is uneven, the destination uncertain, yet somehow it maintains a sense of continuity.
On every anniversary and with every hundredth piece I write, I look back to see what has changed since those early days. It’s as if I’m opening a box of nostalgia. I’m surprised by what I find each time.
Such feelings are hard to put into words, as you know. So there’s no need to dwell on them further. However, I must also mention that even after writing two hundred and ninety-two pieces, I still haven’t lost my sense of wonder.
Many of us who love writing have tried to establish an online presence by starting a blog about our favourite topics. However, these ventures have generally failed to gain traction, ending up consigned to the depths of the web and revisited only every few years. However, the more we write, the more we realise that truly understanding what it means to write involves making it an integral part of our lives.
Writing becomes our new reality, going beyond being a mere hobby. We cannot tear ourselves away from it. Perhaps it is a sweet habit that spurs our discipline, or perhaps it is an overwhelming compulsion that we feel compelled to act on, one that eats away at us if we do not write. I suppose mine has been a mouse for quite some time now. As for me, I am a clumsy cat chasing after it from time to time.
This process is similar to managing any other aspect of our lives. We cannot eat our favourite meal all the time, nor can we approach the work we started with the same enthusiasm as on the first day. Passion and ideals do not stay the same, indeed, they may even fade away. Principles crack, and even if we don't break our personal rules, we bend them.
In my view, all of this is simply human nature. As long as they do not cross ethical or moral boundaries, many human traits can be considered natural.
I’m sure you’ve realised what I’m getting at: writing a lot or regularly doesn't necessarily guarantee success or financial gain. What we write and how we write it are what really matter. There's a whole different level of satisfaction in doing a job you enjoy. For me, it has always been more important to dedicate myself to something, even if it doesn’t produce the expected results, than to simply do something to have done it and be recognised for it. Perhaps this is a naïve or misguided attitude – I cannot say. However, this is the perspective I have adopted. While it hasn't brought me any tangible financial gain, it has paved the way for other kinds of reward.
Life. How strange.
If I hadn’t written and organised that first piece, I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today. I wouldn’t have known what kind of person I would become, or whether I would go on to do all the other work I do now. On that day, I drew on my love of writing, which had shaped my personality, to shape my character. I’m satisfied with the person I am, at least in terms of what I’ve achieved so far. However, just as I have changed over the last year or two, I know I will change in the years to come. So what matters is moving forward with what I love without losing sight of the core idea.
Three years can sometimes not feel that long. Our perception of time can be fickle. Yet it becomes quite clear when making certain comparisons. For example, a journey spanning over a thousand days evokes a different feeling. Or, when compared to other familiar things, its significance becomes apparent. One personal example is reaching my early thirties. Another example is the increase in the exchange rate, from 1 USD being worth 25 TL to 46 TL.
Of course, writing is about more than just writing, we all know that. It begins with reading. The more we read, the more we can write. The more we learn, the more we can express.
This means that, as well as practising my writing skills for three years, I also had to maintain these habits. Otherwise, one cannot progress beyond keeping a diary. It is not enough to only write about what we know — or think we know — but also about what we once did not know. This requires research, reading, learning, drawing conclusions, using language correctly, consulting a dictionary, listening and remaining silent when necessary, debating with others, defending one’s views, citing sources, and establishing connections with other topics through comparison. In other words, writing should stimulate the mind as much as reading does. We should also be able to think in ways that we could not before. I suppose these past three years have helped me develop these abilities to some extent.
Strange.
Of course, as long as they come from the heart, they inspire us to write, too. As we said, writing has become a mental habit, but our hearts also yearn to break free from monotony and find an outlet for self-expression.
So sometimes, we aren't satisfied. “Have I done this? Could I do that, too?” we ask ourselves, setting out to challenge ourselves. This is a good thing to do because it strengthens our foundations. We develop. For example, if we walk a lot, it’s beneficial to set ourselves a goal. Whether or not we succeed is, of course, a separate matter, but what matters is making walking a repetitive action. This shows that it has long since become second nature.
That is why we must not be content merely to write. The passing years have taught me this once again. We must voice our poems, turn to prose, and engage with essays. We should strive to write concisely and discipline ourselves to avoid lengthy prose. At other times, however, we should let our thoughts flow freely until our fingers are tired and our eyes are sore. We must explore every aspect of writing. We must squeeze every last drop out of it.
Sometimes, though, you just need to take a break. You need to let things sink in. Read it again every now and then and think about it. This will help you see what has and hasn’t changed in your thinking. Looking back, I can see where I’ve repeated myself or filled in gaps in my writing. I think some of these repetitions are unnecessary, but I also highly value some others. I remember how much effort and time I put into it. I remember those eight- to ten-hour writing sessions, during which sweat literally poured down my back. I also remember that these sessions weren’t valued as much as one might have thought. Conversely, I also recall that pieces written on a whim had a far greater impact.
Fortunately, I’m fully aware that I didn’t write any of them for you, so it doesn't bother me. Yes, let me repeat what I’ve always said: we should write for ourselves. If there are people who love our work or are curious about it, they’ll find us anyway. Let's focus on our own path and not be swayed by others' positive or negative assessments or criticisms.
I don't think that's strange at all.
I love writing! I hope the feeling is mutual. If they've provided me with so many letters, they must know what they're talking about. I’m grateful to them. As I draw upon them, I shape my language. In turn, as I do so, I nourish them. Sometimes, something interesting emerges from this verbal cycle. I can see how my writing style evolves. I double-check the words I use to make sure I have chosen them correctly. Even so, there are times when things slip past me, but I don’t worry about it too much. I now recognise that they are part of my language and the thoughts flowing from my mind. It has taken me years to stop pursuing perfection and learn to love and accept my mistakes. I swear it!
This process has given me the chance to pluck up my courage. It has started to make me feel competent. As we said, it's part of life. Repeated action makes us familiar with something and it becomes part of us. That’s why we find it easier to get started: we treat it more normally and feel that we can handle it better. The important thing is not to go overboard.
For example, I’ve compiled a year’s worth of my humble work into a book. Yet on the very day I started writing on Medium, I had already begun writing the stories that would form the second book in a series I had conceived. Although I finished those a while ago, the thought of revisiting them still intimidates me. My body seems to crave something different: not wild sentences, but ones I can connect with. I wrote other stories and threw myself into short fiction, poetry, and prose. After over a year of writing, I finally compiled my work into a collection and presented it to readers. If I hadn't been writing for three years, would I have embarked on this project, or would I have had my other stories published? It's amusing to ask questions to which we'll never know the answers.
As I reach the end of my time here, I would like to highlight the most significant benefit of the past three years: the opportunity to connect with like-minded individuals. Forming groups, primarily online, and being part of them, moving forward together. Coming together for a shared purpose. If I hadn't started writing on Medium, my shy nature would probably never have allowed it. Instead of being something I'll never know, I can now at least imagine who I might be in other universes.
The most beautiful aspect of coming together is fostering a sense of camaraderie, encouraging and inspiring one another, and teaching and reminding each other. Therefore, I can say that I have learnt as much as I have written. Of course, I have also learnt things that I could not have learnt while writing alone. While solitude and silence may feel good — and I still experience them frequently — the emotional and educational benefits of communicating with others, exchanging ideas, debating, and sharing are also significant.
Writing, however, is always a solitary act. Even when we create something with others, our words ultimately belong to us. Nevertheless, being part of a group is valuable for alleviating our solitude.
I believe this is a natural necessity rather than something strange.
As I come to the end of my third consecutive year of non-stop writing, I am hopeful that there will be a fourth. I embrace my future self in 2027, knowing that I will have changed as a person by then. I know you will have overcome many challenges, regardless of how they appear from the outside. Congratulations! Yet, as with so many things in life, this is simply how it is. I hope you never lose your passion for this endeavour, which you have said you want to pursue until the end of your life.
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