I wonder what it takes to become a good writer. Ok, a decent one. I have been staring at this page for a while, not knowing how to begin. Not knowing what to write about. I have many thoughts about how people are to be behave. I think about them while I stroll over the cobbled streets of Maastricht. And then, I thought, you know what? I should just write that down. And see, there is it, my first paragraph. Took me one minute to write.

As I contemplate this first paragraph, and I am staring out of my window, I realise that I want to use a second paragraph to practice describing what I see. For now, I ignore spelling and choosing the correct words. I have jumped a rolling train, I do not care my clothes get torn into pieces. This train is important. It is taking me to the station I want to go: being a writer.

What I wanted to write in the second paragraph, relates to the evening falling in. I wanted to give a description of what I see at the other side of the double glass door. I see the cold. The sky went from yellow to dark bluish. The clouds are even darker. One can tell they have driven in from sea. They have this threatening ‘I will poor down on you’ in them. The shape they were given by the moderate winds that blow them inland.

As I am sipping my lukewarm (second word I had to look up) coffee, I am starting to feel sick again. To be completely frank with you, I am drinking whiskey with this coffee. Indeed, whisky with an e. It is Irish. It is not the liquor that makes me feel sick. I was feeling sick this morning, after finishing a 5 KM run. I am training for a 5 KM race in June, and did a threshold training this morning. The purpose of a threshold training is to train speed and the endurance that is required to keep on delivering that speed. The (anaerobic) threshold is the point, at which the body cannot cope with the acid the muscles are generating. At that point it start pouring the acid into the blood, making the legs feel heavy and painful. At the same time breathing becomes difficult. When I stopped torturing myself, I could barely stand on my legs. I felt like sleeping or puking. Or preferably both at the same time.

I have a tendency to overdo. No, we are not missing a noun here. I have a tendency to overdo things. It also hold true for running. My threshold level, expressed in heart beats per minute, should be somewhere around 168 – 172 (beats per minute). This morning I could not prevent myself from going to 180 – 182 beats. According to several theories this is the zone where resistance levels are trained. This level of intensity is bearable for a few minutes at most. I can confirm that it is true. I kept on saying to myself: “I never run again, it is unbearable”. Anyway, I ended up with a time of 26:30 minutes, or 11,32 km/h on average. Two weeks ago I tortured myself with a record 12,1 km/h over 5 KM. Unfortunately, this is not bringing what it should: I should be training ‘threshold’, and not resistance levels.

Back to writing. When I started this little practice, I indicated that I am aiming to become a decent writer. There is a little… damn my coffee is cold. There is a little… why “little”, what I am going to say? You see, this is what I wanted to indicate. What makes one a good writer? Whose standards are applied when it comes to good and bad? My style, so far, has been ‘pointy’ and ‘jumpy’. I like to go from left to right and back and forth. I like to mix up. This is how I talk, how I discuss and how I want to write. I am afraid it might not be sufficient when writing to a larger audience. In general, I am under the impression that I have a problem connecting to a larger audience. So, why aiming to adapt my style so that it fits a wider audience? The answer: success. I know, one word does not really fit as an answer to a question. Then, what do I consider to be a success. I will leave that open for now.

It is not the short and messy sentences that I worry about. I feel I can do some adapting there. I worry about: a.) keeping the readers attention and b.) organising my thoughts so that I can make my case. Regarding point a. I am in doubt about the attractiveness of my writing. Would I manage to describe situations or character in such a way that is attractive for a reader to keep on reading. In the meantime I have been staring out of my window again and I wonder, would I be able to describe what I am seeing there? Little trial and error then? Here we go.

The sun has set an hour ago. The last rays of light are bent through the atmosphere letting me distinguish the building at the other side against the black background. There is a planet that has been with me for the last two month. Sometimes its penetrating bluish white light finds company in the reddish white light emitted by some satellite. Tonight, it is the CEO of stardom, outshining the other stars solely.

I stopped twenty minutes ago. Writing that description did not satisfy. Even stronger, it took away my appetite for writing. I stood in front of the window, observing planes on their way to Brussels. From time to time my eyes refocused and I stood there looking at myself. The purple sweater I am wearing is not my favourite. I re-concluded that. Why would I care about describing the sky and the bare branches of the threes? What purpose does it serve? Instead I felt like writing a sex scene. To provoke you and to push myself. A smile has come to my face. I really like to provoke. In a way this is an ode to the person who told me this in the first place.

Okay… I have not decided upon style yet. Neither did I choose a language (English or Dutch) or theme, structure, etc. I felt it was important to free myself, and I hope this text has helped me to free myself. I am planning to continue this writing practice and keep blabbering what comes to my mind. I will put it on this website. The Internet: the world largest dump of insignificant thoughts and opinions.