Picture by: @nomadwanderer
Ever since Phil Collins came into my life, this song title has fascinated me. So here I am, borrowing from @nomadwanderer’s lens… She takes the pictures, i tell the story… Let’s see where this takes us…
Project Picture Stories: 1
Ground rules for the journal:
- Write every day, even if you have not written for the novel, write as to why?
- Tell yourself the truth.
- Write about the influences. Film, music, books, art or people that triggered off the want to write.
- Thou shalt not lose passion
- Thou shalt not forget the goal. A finished book by end of December
- Thou shalt ignore people telling you, you cannot do it
- Start the first day by reading random pieces written before.
Enough random thinking. It will still continue, but from today, the blog will see posts about creating my second novel. I plan to do the following things by the year end:
- Be brutally honest about myself, to myself:
Satyadev Dubey once told me over a cup of chai at MIG club, ‘Lie to the world, but don’t ever make the mistake of lying to yourself,’ It’s about time I took that advice seriously. I am honest with myself but to put it down in words is to crystalize it, frame it up and make it permanent. I am not going to be scared of it.
- Delete the delete:
Negative self- image might help me improve and all, but the negativity about my own work makes me destroy most of the things that I write. From now on, delete does not exist. I will write, and however crappy I think my writing, I will revisit it later and craft it to reduce its level of mediocrity.
- Worker harder on the hard work:
Working hard is simply not enough. I will work harder at working harder.
- Reflections can be beautiful:
Maintain a writers’ journal so I can reflect on the process of writing.
Being nervous about sharing my work is bad for my health. And a lady with bitten nails doesn’t exactly look gorgeous. It’s my work, I will share it. So what if someone hates it!
- Do Doddle Do:
I am always guilty of talking rather than doing. I won’t just write these things, I will do them.
Off to start with the second novel. To piece together silly little pieces of the puzzle I have strewn across the different corners of my mind. To piece them together, to bring alive each character and to be the schizophrenic writer I love being. I am off to be restless, to explore where the story goes and where it comes from, to feel the pulse of each character and to be haunted, consumed and bewildered by the story I want to tell. And my readers, darlings, you have a choice, to be involved in this mad mad mad journey over the next God knows how many days. If it sounds too boring, let me know. I’ll sneak in a fun bit or two, but I really *need* to do this.
Let the madness begin: drumroll!
Searching for a new horizon
Beyond the sea, beyond the one I see now
Painted a new colour
Scented with a new odour
Of sweat and tears
Hard days and hard nights
Proving myself yet again
A new struggle, a new future
A new present
But the past remains the same
The past is me,
The past is who I am
And what defines what I’m meant to be…
Filed under: creative writing, Poetry | Tagged: ambition, beyond, creative writing, dreams, future, hard work, horizon, life, now, past, personal, poem, Poetry, present, random, reflection, thoughts, writing | 1 Comment »
A continuation of the earlier post
It was one of those mornings where he hated waking up. He was dreaming of something vague but he wasn’t sure. He forced himself up anyway. He walked to the balcony and glanced at the sky searching for a hint of sunlight. The dull sky totally matched his state-of-mind.
Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, looking within for inspiration. Suddenly he heard someone honk right under his window. She came to his mind. The tiny girl trying to maneuver her big car in the homeward bound traffic. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened, had he knocked on her window. He couldn’t help but wonder how many ‘what if’s marked has life.
What if he had knocked on her window, what if she’d have smiled back and said ‘hey’, what if she thought he was a creep and looked away. The ‘what if’ was making him restless, so he put on his shoes and stepped out to take a walk. And just then the first rain of the season poured down on him. Bringing with it, he scent of wet mud and lush greens of the seasons.
She had driven all the way across town for a meeting, which didn’t happen eventually. The terrible traffic wasn’t helping her foul mood. She was sick of her being stuck in first gear. Her knees were hurting out of the excessive driving. The tiny rickshaws kept cutting into her lane, adding to her agony. She just wanted to get home and rest.
She didn’t notice the guy in the car next door look at her. She tried to focus on getting some song on the radio, but they were just playing songs she didn’t care about. She rested her head on her steering wheel in frustration.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he knew it was rude to stare, but she was adorable. She was restless in her big huge car, shifting gears even when the car was stationary. He felt a strong urge to just roll down his window and knock on hers. He shook off the thought and smiled. He forced himself to look away. She was just driving a car next to his, she could be married or she could be a mother of 5 kids. He wasn’t the type to flirt with random girls. In fact, it was a long time since he had checked out a girl even.
While he was lost in his thoughts, she had driven away… He looked at where her car had been and shrugged. What if he had knocked on her window?