For almost two decades, most of my adult life, I desperately wanted to find my place in Hungarian society. Although I’ve always had this strange feeling of having nothing in common with most people around me since childhood, I’ve always thought I have no other choice because I’m working with words, text, and self-expression. And these things can be done only in one’s mother language properly. Even when I’m able to read books in other languages, writing is a different animal, and I must not only understand but feel the words. The material I’m using.
Fortunately, a few years ago, at the age of 39, I’ve changed my mind and started creating content also in English, which probably -attention, big words are coming – saved my life.
Written words were, are, and always be the tools that help me connect to the world.
And I still hope it’s not just because of my mild autism spectrum disorder I have poor social skills, thus nothing else to rely on.
There are several reasons, why I’ve decided to focus rather on creating content in English. But one thing is sure, switching language is a bold move. In one moment you have confidence in your skills, your knowledge, and your style. In those little tricks, you used to do to distinguish your own creative product from other authors’ ones.
And the next moment all seems just like stumbling in a foggy forest.
I’ve been using English for simple everyday situations for decades. I even used to express my opinion on books, films, and other cultural products in shorter online comments. But using the language as a basic instrument of your profession requires much more from you.
Mentally and emotionally too.
It comes with a lot of frustration when you must admit, that you are not unique anymore. Your style, your wittiness, all your virtuosity just disappeared. (Luckily, they’re not gone for good, only hiding somewhere in the deepness of that foggy forest.) You have to handle your gravely hurt vanity. You should not be offended when people think your writing is nothing special. You’re just average. Or even worse.
These new experiences are sometimes quite painful. And yet,
words are all I have.
And I have to be as humble as possible to the mighty world of words and soldier on with the hope that one day that foggy forest will clear up.
