Reading Yellowface by R F Kuang made me so eager to write and keep writing.
I have always wanted to be a writer. Wanted to write about myself, my struggles, or something entirely different, but whenever I got writing, I always felt that someone had written this story! I was feeling I was not doing anything different, just copying someone's work.
It made me so discouraged that I stopped writing on my book. Years passed, and I become a girl who writes in her journal only and nothing else. Even writing on journal got lesser. But now when I see my friends writing articles and short stories I feel a kind of jealousy that is known only to me. I don't have the feeling that why she/he is writing something but rather why I am not writing. Why I didn't publish or at least write a short story. I know there is a lot to tell and a lot to write, but why can't I change it into a narrative? I always have weird dreams about stories to form! I know I can be, but what's really detaining me? Just a fear of plagiarism? Or something else?