Tag Archives: writer

Living In An Illusory World.

Writers and readers are hopelessly romantic. They live in a fictional world, and tend to be unacceptable to the real world. They immerse themselves so much in a world, which does not exist that they deviate and forget that they live in a world, which does exist. They seek pleasure in something, which is unreal, and shirk their responsibilities towards reality. They live in denial; they live with indifference. They do not live in actuality. Myth engulfs them so strongly that pragmatism and logic become their adversaries. These writers and readers do not know how the real world works.”

This, my friend, is an allegation on me today. But what can I say to this?

May be I am irrational. May be I don’t think practically. May be I shed off my responsibilities, may be I do live in too many worlds at a point of time. May be I am hopelessly romantic. May be I do live in denial. May be I live in a fictional world, and may be I really do not know how this “real world” works?

But does anyone actually know the difference?

All I got to say about this is,

“I have lived a thousand lives and I have lived a thousand loves. I’ve walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time. Because I read.” –George R. R. Martin.

Yes, I read and I write and most of the times I immerse myself so much in these two things that I forget the real from unreal. I can barely make what was true and what was a dream. I forget the real world in the process of making a beautiful world for myself where I can live. And many a times I don’t want to come back from there, well, most of the times. And what’s more? I can’t. I can’t just do that. I have to come back.

So is that not enough? Is it not enough that I have to come back, and I do come back into the so-called real world and try to live in it.

Is it not enough that I live a life, which I don’t want to?

A Writer Without Words!

Today, they introduced me as a writer, and honestly, I did not see that coming. People keep telling me, that I am a writer, but there is some part of me that still does not believe that.

Anyways so there I was being introduced as a writer, and then the irony struck me. The very same morning I was struggling with words to describe what I was feeling, and I failed. Then I tried completing my assignments, failed! And then I started working on a fictional plot, at which I failed again.

I am not talking about the writers’ block, I kept writing, I kept taking notes, I kept typing, but I was not satisfied with it, I still felt that the feelings were unclear, and what I was saying were mere words. But if they were words, then why was I feeling the absence of emotions. And if I had words, then was I not a writer after all? But then only putting words isn’t a writers job, his job is to bring even fiction to reality. So where was I going wrong?

I had words, but still I felt I was not a writer.

On second thoughts, I felt I did not even have the words, all I had was the feeling, the love, the hatred, required for being a writer. The words that I say I wrote, were not mine, they did not justify how I felt, how I wanted things to come out, they simply did a job of being portrayed as a writer’s work. They were just there on paper.

So now, I did not even have words, and yet I was a writer?

 

26 Short Stories, 7 days -Rajaraman R.

What I learnt by writing 26 short stories in 7 days:

The kick you need as an upcoming writer

-Rajaraman R.

Length: 37 pages

Mr. Rajaraman R has come up with this short yet exceptional book detailing his experiences and learnings while writing 26 short stories in a span of just 7 days.

He starts with his initial planning of taking up this challenge, and ends with sharing some writing tips for novice writers. The small book notes how he took up the challenge and how he himself grows as a writer, coming full circle from not being a confident writer, to being one.

The book portrays the possibilities and the impossibilities of being a fictional writer. Though he divides his time for writing doing the entire math, we realise that sometimes the tools aren’t just enough when it comes to writing.

Despite the hurdles the 26 stories were completed giving the writer a different perspective of himself. Mr. Raja not only learns about himself, but he also shares wonderful writing tips in the book, which he learnt in the process of writing these fictional stories.

He aspires to write more novels and short stories in the years to come, and we wish him all the best.

You can read his stories and other fiction writing at http://rajawrites.com

The book is on kindle unlimited and can also be bought on amazon at a very convenient price.

Inspiration

I only write when inspiration strikes. Fortunately, it strikes at nine o’ clock sharp every morning.

-William Faulkner

Me- The ultimate fool.

On my birthday last month, my friend wished me good luck with such a heart-warming message and I the ultimate fool forgot his birthday. Well, I remembered, and I intended to call him up first thing in the morning, but then ‘the day’ happened and I forgot all about it. I just slipped. And the best part is I did not even remember this until 11:30 in the night. And then I grabbed my phone can called him instantly, simply apologizing. He did not mind, he said that he had been waiting for my call and had noticed that I hadn’t wished him yet. But still it was okay! So we had a good talk for a while and then we put off but I still did not like the fact that I forgot talking to him. While he on the other hand made it a point to call me at midnight, wrote me such a sweet text/poem. And what did I do? I forgot. Simple!

So I thought I’ll write him a poem or something, but then I realised that I don’t know what to write. What a shame!

So all I can say to him now is something like this,

Dear Yadu,

You are more capable than you think. And there is only one thing that I am waiting for you to do, write a book! You don’t give yourself enough credit for it, but you deserve every bit of it. You can really write a book which will be worth it, no matter what language you write in.

So may be very soon, eh?

I attach here the message he wrote me, and you can decide for yourself if he is capable or not. (Also I did a little translation in English which I am really not proud of. And I also know this is going to annoy him. He doesn’t like translations.)

Ek unsuljhi paheli, ek khamosh si kahani, ek mushqil sa sawal

Ye sab thi tum, aur shayad abhi bhi ho kisi k liye

Lekin jab jana to laga ye sab nahi ho tum,

Sirf ek acchi dost ho mere liye

Ek paheli nahi, paheliyo ka rasta ho tum

Khamosh kahani nahi ek bolti kitab ho tum,

Mushkil sawal nahi, un sawalo ka jawab ho tum

Beshaq alag ho tum, auro se bilkul alag,

Tabhi to shayad hazaroo ki bheed me tumhe pehchanna asan tha.

*

An unsolved puzzle, a silent story, a difficult question,

You were all of these things to me,

May be you are still one of these things for someone else, but not me.

Now when I know you, you aren’t any of these things to me.

You are only a true friend for me.

You are not an unsolved puzzle, but the answers to all the puzzles.

Not a silent story, but you are a book with your own life story,

You are not a difficult question, but you are the answers to all the questions.

Of course you are totally different from others,

That is why may be it was way too easy for me to find you among the crowd of 1000s.

Why?

I stood there stumped, knowing not what to do, I had no idea what was happening, what was all the fuss about? The people around me were exhilarated, but why? I was at a party or a gathering, but why? Everything seemed chic and elegant, people sipping red wine, women bothered with their dresses, men seemed to be discussing on serious issues and in the end was an elevated stage, and someone was announcing my name. Oh! my name but why?

I stood there defining myself in the dark crimson evening gown holding onto my clutch and the phone, trying not to smudge my make-up. But as usual I embarrassed myself in front of everyone as the tears trolled down my kohl outlined eyes. I started walking towards the stage, took just a step ahead when someone blocked my way. A woman, she was holding a book in hand and as I look bewildered she thrust it towards me and also gave me a pen, but why?

I heard my name being announced yet again. I smiled and walked with tears in my eyes, trying to stop them, but why?

The woman stopped me again, an asked me to sign the book, but why? I saw the book and I couldn’t just contain myself. I lost all control. I cried and laughed, all at the same time. The book cover had my name on it and I just needed to sit down to get control of myself, but why?

With shivering hands I signed the book and the moment I returned it, I woke up; but why?

Why did I have to wake up?

PC: Pinterest