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Is There Any Point in Creative Writing Anymore?

Beata works as a qualified primary school teacher, a councillor for drug and alcohol addiction and a farm caretaker for organic olive grow.

The way I write did not change from the time...

I was studying Russian language in Volgograd in 1986.

I was studying Russian language in Volgograd in 1986.

I witnessed being a public execution on the city square.

It was a warning to all collective farm workers

not to steal produce they grew for tables

of their communist leaders in Moscow

the poor man lying in a pool of blood

on a dirty cement floor

I wrote angrily in my creative piece

after I returned to my student dormitory

was just trying to feed his hungry family

when he stole a piece of meat.

To make sense of absurdity of situation

I found myself in

living in a foreign land

far away from my family

I scribbled down a short story

About an old man I saw reaching out

to his wife and his little boy

sobbing quietly in a silent crowd

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before being shot down

I witnessed it with my own eyes

but knew little about the circumstances of the trial

except the bits of information whispered

among scared passer byes

Then we were ordered to disperse

and not to mention what we saw again.

My creative story needed to be written the way...

that did not offend authorities.

that did not offend authorities.

The main point of the piece was hidden between the lines.

Still the editor of the local paper

rejected it on the base of one word

he said it is duplicate

I scratched my head what does he mean by 'duplicate'?

There were many people witnessing the same shooting

Everyone who dared to write about it would make up story

gun was probably the word or injustice?

I do not like rewriting the same story

so I wrote three with the same theme

to please the editor

When I found what was the word offending his credentials

I did not know if to laugh or cry

“Plastic bag’ was used only in the western world at that time

Russians were packing their groceries in old newspapers

so he assumed I copied it from some western literature

when I made my old man hid his piece of meat in it

Maybe I read it somewhere but I also had a father abroad

and news about him trickled from time to time

secretly over the Berlin wall behind which he lived

I questioned at that time as I question now

a half of century nearly later

What is the point of creative writing at all?

Now I live in Australia and I can write about anything

any way I like on any online platform I choose

Except of scared editor scared to offend authorities

an automatic duplicate system is checking constantly

every word you write highlighting it in red

just like communists in my past once did

When I moved into the west my Grandmother

was so anxious about I befriended many westerners

from Australia and USA or Canada

and with time and endless conversation

with lots of studying of books they recommended

and listening to their live stories

I found out we are all the same humans

and division between us is just a myth

I write my creative pieces still the same way

I observe the life around me wrapped in my imagination.

I observe the life around me wrapped in my imagination.

Each of my poems a wrapped gift you receive under your Christmas tree

I feel my gifts are not wanted or needed anymore

in strange times we live in.

The recent pandemic times reminds me

again of the time studying in Russia

People are scared around me

whispering all sorts of conspiracies

no one trusts anyone anymore

and neither they trust their own democratic governments

they themselves elect

It scares me that maybe the absurdity of the old times

is creeping back in our mist

maybe the west just like the east once

is suffering from malaise of search for understanding

based on evidence and common sense

being fed absolute truths

making absolute claims

This human quest for absolute claims is much older than the recent pandemic itself.

I always loved science although failed that subject at school.

Most of my close friends are of scientific background.

Most of my close friends are of scientific background.

I love their scientific approach to evidence.

They approach the world around them

with open minded attitude.

It finally make sense to me after the communist’s belief in absolute truth

It is not a quest for truth but more in their eyes search for understanding

that evolve with more data

I wrote a story about my old Australian friend scientist

living in America who visited a flat earth believers conference

who tried to persuade him Australia is just a hoax.

I made a story about his experience making my point

just like with with climate change deniers and anti vaccine protesters

it is very dangerous road to go down to make absolute claims.

'HubPages' automatic duplicate system rejected the poem

highlighting some words as duplicates.

Recently I took a bike ride with few friends...

through narrow path in the bush.

through narrow path in the bush.

Suddenly we came upon a snake and everyone panicked

A stranger riding opposite stopped staring at it blocking the exit

We screamed at him to move and let us pass before the snake bit any of us

Fortunately for us all the animal got bored with us or scared and slithered away

but the stranger stood his ground maybe he had a bad day

but suddenly politics came to his mind and he accused us of being lefties

noticing our clean up beach bags and one of the pamphlet of the benefits of vaccination

that poked out from my backpack

He screamed at us about taking his freedom away as he can’t fish anymore where he likes

and even watch his favourite tennis player at the Melbourne Cup to win his next title

because he refused to be vaccinated just like him. “He is my hero,” the man punched his chest proudly.

“If he would be a true hero he would get vaccinated and be example to everyone of us how to keep each other safe and work together as community.” I wanted to say but there the man sped off cursing the world and us.

I wrote another creative piece about a snake on my path but again 'HubPages automatic duplicate system'

rejected it claiming again I used some words that are duplicate.

I am too tired to scratch my head as I did in my university time

and guess if the word is snake or vaccination?

I gave up sending another creative story at all...

Why to bother right?

Why to bother right?

All is there to do is to give the HubPages an explanation

there were wrong to assume any of my stories was a duplicate

in any sense or form

if there is not clone in my head typing the imaginary story at the same time

for someone else

Maybe just maybe they switch off the automatic system for once

and try to understand as only humans do

the way I write what was the point of my three stories I sent:

'What scared me the most living in the East

was the idea that one person means nothing only community count.

What scares me now living in the West

is the idea that one person counts for everything,

and more rich or important they are they count for me

but community of disadvantaged, living on a fringe of society

means very little and sometimes nothing at all."

Watching the best tennis player recently winning his battle

with the Australian government proving to all of us,

he is too famous or rich to care about vaccination

while a group of refugees living in the same hotel

under siege from disappointed fans got no voice and no fame for a day.

He is young and strong, rich and famous,

who plays a hero to those who like individualism

above everything else. He is going to win his title

and prove everyone all you need to care about


Does it really matter how you affect your vulnerable in your community

by your selfishness to get vaccinated?

All what matters is YOU right?

Maybe there is no point to write anything creatively any more.

Maybe the real question we all should ask is:

Is there any word or situation or absurdity we never encountered before?

And if not everything we write is nothing but a duplicate

what was imagined, encountered, observed or re-lived before.

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