Yes I Can!!

It took me fifty-three short stories, over one hundred blog posts and countless journal entries to realize that I can write. The realization was sudden, and I embraced it. For too long I have run away from myself, and have denied the person inside me the respect and love for which it yearned.

Yesterday had been a very lonely day and I had been brooding over some personal relations. The sky was dripping, the air-condition buzzing and Mozart playing his Piano Concerto 21. In all, it was a perfect day to be a secluded bee. I was writing my daily journal when a vision suddenly came up. A flash.  A momentary illumination.  And then I decided to sit at the computer and see what happens. And, to my surprise, after an hour of ceaseless typing, I realized that I had successfully delivered the imago in print. The starting was vague, but then it began to clear-up and make sense.

I agree that I am an ambivert; and writing calls for the introvert. The outside world palliates loneliness but deforms the thought process exceedingly such that after a loud weekend you need at least ten days of mental recuperation. And that patch of ten days usually assume a dry and arid character where how much you may try to add a dollop of fertilizer, you fail to nourish the ground. But thankfully, I wasn’t under the weather or depressed yesterday, and consequently did not let the mind give up all its hope of developing a writing career eventually. Instead, I challenged it. I threw all the covers away and let it dwell on its seed. To the result that finally the thought germinated, one root gave birth to another extension, and when I ended the day’s work, I discovered that unbeknownst to me I had written exactly what I had in my mind.

I thanked myself, my mind, and the spirit that granted me the vision, the image. And I promised myself that even though I always will lack the confidence to look into a person’s eye and declare in unequivocal terms that I want to be a writer one day, I shall never deny myself the respect and love it deserves. It is true that unless you acknowledge your gifts, however minuscule the scale of talent might be, you never improve, or find the confidence to carry on. Growing up in a very conservative family I was denied the joys of independence and that resulted in me being unassertive and pale in comparison with the highly confident Homo sapiens I meet every day.  Had it not been for the angel of a husband I have, I would never have known my abilities, let alone honing or nurturing them. My family does not read my work, some of friends even decline to comment on my publications, but this angel is always there to encourage me and read all my creative quisquilie.  I guess we all need one such spirit to prosper in life and know ourselves and our capabilities.

Anyway, after a happy day of work I am off to my creative writing class and shall be back with a new post on Friday.

CheerioJ

Reading T.S. Eliot's The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Tunes I listen to when I am writing

These songs and tunes always set the right mood for free writing. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do:-)

1. Josh Groban--You Raise Me Up

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quZTdeUgiV8&feature=related

2.Adagio in G Minor (Albinoni)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMbvcp480Y4

3. Sound of Silence
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hUy9ePyo6Q

4. Jar of Hearts--Christina Perri
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8v_4O44sfjM

5. Lotus Feel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxpX4BVyxws

6. Moonlight Sonata--Beethoven
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQVeaIHWWck

7. Jean Sibelius--Finlandia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fgwr3wrenkQ

8. Hallelujah --Shrek Soundtrack
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB67HO8tkQs

9.Piya Tora Kaisa Abhimaan--Raincoat Soundtrack
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CtBGbt5z7A

10. It's amazing--Jem
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ecdVEtYIK8

Writing about Writing

I was listening to Hemingway’s speech this morning where the famous irrealist talks about writing being essentially a lonely vocation. You compose when you are alone. And I couldn’t agree more with the grainy, masculine tenor my computer played for me. There is something soothing in lonely mornings that opens up the creative cap and allows you to see it all clearly. Under such formidable circumstances, the words and images hailing from the recesses of your mind face no constraint, no judgment, and no criticism. You find yourself in a labile path with no fixed points to remember while you compose. Nothing, not even the terrible fear of derision, bothers you; and for some hours you find yourself drifting in a frigate of imagination. In your journey you encounter your characters, they come alive in front of you, they take on human forms and peel away layers of stereotypical ordinariness you attributed them in your first and second drafts.  It takes several days, even months of undisturbed solitude to personify self-created puppets.

A community of writing individuals may or may not improve your writing ability, but a few hours every day in front of a laptop surely makes you perseverant. Also, you feel more alive. Even the flower-pot-colored imbricated rooftop tiles of an adjoining house start to look brighter. Writing without restrictions has an amnesiac effect on you. You forget, albeit momentarily, the hard truth of life, and lose yourself in a world and sentences and images. And this orgasmic relief, this sojourn in the ivory tower of imagination can seldom be experienced in a group.

In our writing class we often talk about the process of writing. Some of my classmates, especially the newly initiated ones, are still confused about the creative process, and ask for concrete steps. I wonder if there are any physical steps to writing. I think the writing domain is an untamed lea. We can learn the techniques of the craft, but writing is a personal process. And when people spend days under the delusion that whatever one writes is dedicated to his readers, he or she inevitably stonewalls the conscious with expectations, and that ultimately leads to a season of a harrowing drought, what we call writer’s block.  

Several writers suggest expecting the least from oneself. I find the word of wisdom invaluable. I have lowered my expectations to a negligible level. And whenever I write I know I am writing for myself. I know my meaningless syncopations would make no sense to the world, and I never try to transmute my illogical word-rhythms for the sake of elevating the world’s view about me. The truth is we all write for ourselves; it’s sad that some people take ages to realize that.

I wish writing something meaningful were easy when all you needed to do would be to sit at a desk and type away. Alas, those who write from heart know that it is anything but easy. Writing requires patience, humility and long years of meaningless improvisation. And however much the society and kin assure you that you are almost there, you know better than that. Awful first drafts lead to moderate second draft and then ultimately to the terrific third and fourth drafts; we are all caught in this vicious cycle. 

It was a revelation to me yesterday when a writer friend said he accepts his first drafts as perfect and just edits away the mistakes and thinks it’s ready for submission; I wish I could do that! But then, on second thought, I am glad I couldn’t pass away my inferior first efforts as finished product. The whole idea of writing is to think out of the box and say something in a way different from others. This challenge hits you like shrapnel when you are attempting to improve your creation. There lies the fun of writing. And truly speaking a single effort is seldom a complete effort.

I am attaching Hemingway’s inspiring speech for you: 

SPECTRUM VOICE MAKES IT TO THE EDITOR'S PICK LIST ON OPEN SALON FOR THE THIRD TIME

The Third Time

The Second Time

The First Time