Who the F$#k Is Cristian Mihai?

The author of this article, age 8

When I was a kid, I thought I was destined for great things. I was born on Christmas Day, exactly one year after they shot Ceausescu, the only ruler of a Communist country to ever be executed. Now, in the same spot, they’re building a shopping mall.

Maybe because I was born when I was born, I don’t really listen to what other people tell me I should do. I never did.

I don’t like authority. I don’t like to follow rules.

I am not afraid of the consequences of not doing what I am told. I am not where I’d like to be in life because I don’t like most people. I have long suspected they don’t like me back.

I am a rebel without a cause, garnering a bit of applause here and there from those who read my stories.

Continue reading “Who the F$#k Is Cristian Mihai?”

Everything I Write Was Once Real Life

One of my favorite opening lines goes like this, “Everything I write was once real life.”

It’s from Max Blecher’s last novel, The Shinning Burrow.

How do you turn real life into art? Into stories? How do you write about all the things you’d never have the courage to say out loud?

Continue reading “Everything I Write Was Once Real Life”

The Story of a Writer

“History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.” Winston S. Churchill

For those of you who don’t know much about me: my name is Cristian Mihai, I am 27 years old, live in Constanta, Romania, and I have been writing for over fourteen years. Also, I do enjoy long walks (on the beach or not) and I have been blogging for more than six years.

But how did I become a writer? How did I decide to be one? What steps did I take? What happened along the way? Why didn’t I quit? What made me keep on keeping on when all hope seemed to be lost? Continue reading “The Story of a Writer”

I Write, Therefore I Am

I’m a writer. I spent over fourteen years telling myself this. Reading at least a book a week since I was fourteen, spending hours daily punching those damn keys, hoping to be rewarded by the muse with something that someone else can call beautiful.

And, yes, from time to time I did doubt it. I still do.

We have wings glued to our backs, yet sometimes we forget that we can fly. We opt to crawl through life instead.

But the truth is that we’re all writers. In one way or another. We wouldn’t exist otherwise. You see, we have language, so we can speak. We can speak, so we can tell a story. We can tell a story, so we can write.

It’s really that simple.

People have wanted stories since they were painting them inside their caves. This desire is what’s kept The Illiad and The Odyssey alive for so long. And it isn’t just belief in God that keeps the Bible breathing.

It’s the stories.

If we didn’t need stories, the world would be perfect. Or empty.

Stories…

To paraphrase Balzac, solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine. Life is only as beautiful as the stories that define it.

You’re alive, you have a story to tell. A story to write.

So yeah… you’re alive, so you’re a writer.

What I Learned in Five Years of Blogging

Five years. Five years of daily blogging. Five years since I decided to never give up, no matter what. To keep writing, to keep blogging, to just keep at it for as long as it took.

And what a ride it has been. Around the world, indeed. 200 or so countries. Lots and lots of people, lots and lots of stories…Continue reading “What I Learned in Five Years of Blogging”