Sometimes it makes me wonder to understand the person I used to be. When I look back upon certain times when I just wrote for myself mainly. I could not stand the thought of someone other than me reading this stuff. I can hardly understand that I really ticked like that. Maybe it was because I did not feel sure enough of what it was I really wanted to express. Maybe I felt that being a writer on its own isn’t quite good enough for this life. I don’t know. Writing for me was a means of survival in some ways. Maybe, I made sure to create a new universe for myself and shield this universe from all too curious looks. Well, I am different now. I must admit, some of the stuff I wrote when I was younger is not quite that good, but some of it is not half bad either. So how many years are we talking now? I would say since I am 41 now and I started out to write when I was 16, roughly 25 years. Most of the really early writings are lost anyway. But I did find some stuff I wrote when I was 18. It was such a time travel to read up on teenage thoughts. So. What is the big difference now and why this blog article about the need for feedback? My argument is that writing is really a very sociable thing and that all writers are somewhat socially interactive and they are interested in the thoughts and the universe created by other people. In a nutshell, if you start to write a novel or a short story or even a poem even, you want to capture a mood, you want to show how you felt, you want to share a certain experience or maybe you want to confuse the reader and lead him astray. Whatever the intention is, you want to communicate with the reader. And therefore my proposal is have more forums and have more possibilities to exchange thoughts with other writers. I see this from a very liberal point of view. At the end of the day, we are basically human. We all know what it is like to be human and we all share certain feelings: falling in love, falling out of love, being infatuated, being disappointed, suffering from heartache, feeling free, enjoying life, or – on the other hand – being devastated, being torn apart by suffering, fear, hate, greed, and crime. After finishing miraculously my first novel (the one I wrote 12 years ago does not count since I never ever finished it properly… “xxxx” rest in peace.) I really had a weird but somewhat lucid moment and thought, wow, that really felt good. That was almost as good as talking to someone. You could compare it to writing a long letter to someone you really care for. But then I started to think. Is that it? That is like a dead end street. You write it. It’s finished, all the energy is out. The thought you had is out of your system. You have finally gotten down to make it appear on paper. And then? What? Someone needs to do something. Someone needs to read it. So what is reading then? If not picking up on a conversation someone left you with? I don’t want to say that all authors are waiting for everyone who reads their books to automatically pick up a phone and tell me… Bla bla, Mr Whatshisname, I really liked your book and I wanted to tell you thank you cos I feel the same about this topic… It is not as easy as that. Cos now… Things are getting a little more interesting. What is the overall subject, what is the real topic and what lies behind it? There can be so many layers to a book, it is incredible. With real good books, I noticed that, even having read them through, I start to pick them up again and read a certain passage I really liked for whatever reason and try to get back into that moment. So! There you are, you have an interaction between author and reader. Why is it neccessarily this passage and not the other? Why do you re-read it at all? Yes, and that is the beauty of books, they are also like friends. They tell you stuff, they even give you advice, they will tease you, but best of all, they keep their mouths shut when they need to.