“Your wee voice doesn’t want you to sell something. Your wee voice wants you to make something. There’s a big difference. Your wee voice doesn’t give a damn about publishers, venture capitalists, or Hollywood producers.

Go ahead and make something. Make something really special. Make something that will really blow the mind of anybody who sees it.

If you try to make something just to fit your uniformed view of some hypothetical market, you will fail. If you make something special and powerful and honest and true, you will succeed.

The wee voice didn’t show up because it decided you need more money, or you need to hang out with movie stars. Your we voice came back because your soul somehow depends on it. There’s something you haven’t done, some light that needs to be switched on, and it needs to be taken care of. Now.

So you have to listen to the wee voice or it will die…taking a big chunk of you along with it.

They’re only crayons. You didn’t fear them in kindergarden, why fear them now?”

– Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity – by Hugh MacLeod



I’m reading a lot about success vs failure these days. You know these books that try to help you become a creative person and all that shit.

It doesn’t have anything to do with me.

I don’t want success. I don’t want to become famous. I just want to get rid of the itch.

If I don’t make things I’m miserable. That’s all. I just need to make things.

If making things could also get me money, that would be great, but that’s not the goal.

Good to get that misunderstanding out of the way. Now, let’s move on.

The Others

My friend is releasing her first book this fall. It’s a young adult book. She has already signed a contract for her next book, which I’ve read, and it’s rather fabulous.

My ex just won a short-story competition in his home country.

Another friend is touring all the big cities and festivals in Europe. She is immensely talented, beautiful, and comes through as a very intelligent woman in most interviews.

Yet another friend received a price last year for his contribution to the local musical life. He’s been making records for the last decade, and is becoming more and more interesting musically.

Bat for Lashes is fantastic. The song-writing is fabulous, she looks great on stage, and can put on a good show. Her band is great. I want to steal her drummer away from her, and never give him back.

I don’t feel jealousy, ever. I don’t have that in me. It doesn’t have anything to do with that. I just don’t know where I belong in this world of talented individuals. The fact that I want to express myself doesn’t mean that anything I do is interesting to other people. Is what I do interesting? Is it good? Is there hope? If not, why keep doing it?

I have known for a long time what my biggest problem is. I don’t like myself very much, and cannot imagine that other people do either. Then how am I suppose to ever be able to produce anything of value? If you don’t think you are anything of value, then how can you make anything of value?

What about the others? Do they like themselves? Do they have an image of themselves as being individuals of value and importance? Is that why they dare show themselves on the stage, in public, in the paper, on records, by writing books?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I feel old, washed up and tired, but I still have passion. I still feel love. I still feel things deeply, so there must be some hope. Also, I have to stop watching the others.

God, I wish I could create a space around me to get rid of all the noise.
I see myself in a transparent ball shutting out everything exterior.
There would be a hatch, so that someone could bring me books and food.
There would be cables coming in, so that I could listen to music.
There would be a piano, a guitar and loads of sheet music.
There would be pens and pencils, rubbers and pencil sharpeners.
It should be easy to get in and out, so that you could go to the bathroom when you needed to.
And there should be loads of tea stacked up there.

It’s a nice image. I’m keeping it in my thoughts for a while, and try to not destroy it with any negativity.


I feel *CURIOUS*

Seeing those images from Nasa today makes me more upset than ever with my job.

When I was twelve, I wanted to work at Nasa. Unfortunately I suck at science. Or at least I think I do. I could barely get through maths. Physics was just something the teachers forced me to do.

Even then literature was my thing. I sucked at science, but excelled at writing.

Just the way it turned out. It’s not by choice, I was just dealt those genes.

Not so bad of course.

But still…

Space – the final frontier and all that.

It makes me shiver.

In a pensive mood. The sky is beautiful over Paris today. It just started raining.

Beautiful planet. Beautiful life.

When things get intense like this, I know a storm is coming.

That’s ok. I’ll get over it. I always do.