writing

Storygathering

I’ve never felt like writers who invent stories must be feeling. It was always impossible for me to imagine being somebody else.

The latest reap of what they sowed. Some of them were recommended by you, kind bloggers, and some other people far away. 

Once I got this advice from an experienced writer whom I met in Denmark but was Irish: “Write the things you wish to tell the people around you.”

I looked at him while whispering on the inside: “But I tell them all the time. Aloud. Instead.”

I guess I’ve liked being me too much. I like my beliefs, what I stand for, my preferences, my taste.

I like my patterns, there is nothing in my past (and barely anything in my present) that I’d like to change.

Once I took part as a test bunny in a seminar for healers, and they asked me to state one thing about myself that I’d like to change.

That made me a bit angry. Why everybody supposes that we would like to change? Advertisers, sellers, fellow beings, therapists.

Except dogs. They are pretty sure in their unsupposing.

So I said: “Maybe we could work on my anger.”

Then came the past lives talk. Designing my own death in a Stefanel-inspired skirt with my neck on the chopping block in a forested area in Highlander times was fun.

But I’m not a writer. So it must have really happened. 😀

It’s true though: the only stories I gather are my own.

Luckily at least one is happening at all times.

Now – photography, on the other hand…

≈ Manja Maksimovič ≈

Photo: a © signature mmm production

For those about to read

You will never know how much I salute you. There is so much of us out there and so few of anybody who cares.

This is a round-up post, the first of its kind, and since it’s the first it will round up my entire blog from when I started it at the end of March 2014. However, it will only cover my writings. They have one thing in common – everything I write about really happened.

The reason for doing this is that lately I’ve had people actually reading me, which has me all giddy. Especially I would like to thank The Snow (Luckily) Melts Somewhere (Else), as she recently read the very first thing I put up here, a not at all happy tale of an escaped lynx, and made me think that maybe people would actually like to read some of that.

All my life I have been struggling with choosing what to do for money. I have had jobs as a journalist, editor, proofreader, but most of my money I’ve earned with translations.

  1. If you click on Everything button in the head of my blog, the first thing you see is MM – writer. So this is what I’d most like to be. Some would say that a journalist is a writer, which might be true but not for the kind of journalist I was. I wonder if Faculty of Journalism in Ljubljana still kills every budding writer with the who-what-where-when-why-how rule.
  2. MM – photographer is next in that Everything column. I’d never thought of selling my photographs before but now I do, even though it might be a bit tricky to commence (especially since all I’ve got is enthusiasm, an eye, some say, and lots of photos).
  3. The last section is MM – translator with my translations which have not been done for money but for pleasure – actually the authors have no idea these exist, unless they google themselves regularly.

Write then. That I do. (Not selling that either, though. Something tells me that there might be a pattern.) And before I choose what kind of book I’ll write – which has obviously been the main obstacle to why I haven’t written one yet – I have been writing on this blog. Let’s look at this a bit closer.

There have been lots of birthday stories for friends and family members and they will keep coming but I won’t focus on them here. There have been some photo essays with accompanying words. But today I wish to focus on the written word as such.

When I write, I don’t make a selection of subject matter beforehand. It’s basically a recorded thought process, usually spurred by something I’ve read or a powerful thought that sneaks in. I never really know where I’ll end up and that’s what makes it so interesting even to myself.

For starters, here is one of my favourites: All my oases

There is no better story I know than the one of our amore:

This one is not so much about words as it is about images and what love does to you if you let it.

Some things in Italy are not directly about love, such as:

Several writings bring back memories of the good old days:

My preference in books, music, sports can be gathered from these:

Here are my experiences and opinions on some burning issues, such as:

Then there are little stories, 100word drabbles, and snippets of conversation.

And to conclude, two rare poems that I wrote a long time ago, in Duba by the sea:

I’m not saying that I expect anybody to go through all these.
It would be madness.
Right?
Okay, this is for the organised and the mad ones then. Buon appetito!

≈ Manja Maksimovič ≈

Images: Tuscany/Lazio border on a cloudy day. Photo: MM