As you know, I write daily and post the poems here in my blog. Three days ago, something happened. A man came, an uninvited guest, older than I am, living alone and poked me to write his story. I don’t know even his name. All I have is that he has thinning hair and long slender fingers, introverted, and maybe boring. I told him I’ve been writing poems for the last year, but he pointed at the two novels I wrote and added it could well include some poetic parts. I said I can’t do that because he doesn’t talk much and I know women much better than men, that I can’t imagine what they think, how they feel, etc. He said I do. With no working excuses, I had to give in. But I must admit I was, and still am, pissed off with this bold attitude and intervention in my privacy! The two former novels were different. I was willing to welcome the characters and we had a good cooperation, although it is true that I felt used at the end. Because as you all know, your characters first sneak in, very polite, respectful, and understanding. They soon show up their true faces and grasp your soul and mind until they are done with you – that is, until you tell their whole story. And as soon as you do so, they leave you like an empty cloak falling down on the floor with no sign of life.
Therefore, this elderly guy made a polite entrance with begging eyes to tell his story. What could be his story? An ordinary man who had an ordinary and boring life? No unexpected turns, no action to rise the interest of the readers, that is, he is one of us. But something about him attracted me and I gave in.
For the first time, I’m writing in Turkish, my native language. This thrills me. There are so great authors who have mastered Turkish and sing while they write. There are some very young writers, as well. I felt very discouraged and unwilling to write in my own language fearing I would mess up with it. Now that shyness is a little bit lighter, I give it a try.
I work as a full-time academician and doctor. I may not have time to write poems daily as I did yesterday. What I plan is to post the poems or poem-like parts of the story in English, but this may not be regular.
I’ll keep in touch with many of you. Meanwhile, stay well, be happy and create, create, create…. It is true that everything that could be said is said, every single story has been told, but not in your words. There is a big mountain of stories waiting for you.