When I woke up this morning I seemed to have a lot of "writing" ideas. You know what they say about free flowing creative thoughts when in a state of semi-consciousness, well I don't know exactly but it is true.
Now, it seems like I am having the writer’s block again, no it's not sold in an environment friendly recyclable container; but seems like I have adequate supply, any takers?
I wonder if writers can insure themselves against this henious, comes-and-goes-as-it-likes disease.
What if my next meal depended upon it.
"Hey Kav, you've lost an awful lot of weight." "Yeah, I'm having the writer's block." Oh well, you can't say it does not have any advantages after all.
I wonder how these newspaper columnists churn out piece after piece every week. Well, they're not all good all the time, but even then, it is a commitment and they have to keep up to it, else they will all be joining the skinny brigade.
What about authors who have editors and publishers breathing down their necks to meet deadlines? Is the "block" a valid excuse for missing a deadline? "I would've made a best selling author but I just got hit by the block."
Have you ever had those brief triumphant moments when you've written this extremely brilliant line and that's that. For hours after, you keep staring at it and no more brilliance is oozing from nowhere. And the harder you stare the brilliance of the brilliant line also keeps diminishing till frustration prompts you to do the inevitable, ctrl+a and shift+del.
Oh the number of times I have been on that trip.
And then my friends ask me, "Hey, you haven't written in a long time." "What happened to your blog, is it still there." Of course, it is still there. You think the blog people would dare delete my blog, which is waiting to overflow with brilliant writing.
Err, maybe it has been a while, you know writer’s block and all, but that's just a passing phase. I think writer’s block can hit you at any time. After one line, one paragraph, one page and in my case sometimes even after one word.
"Preposterous", I thought I was getting somewhere with that word and thought I had a great piece outlined when it hit me. So after the staring and crinkling of the nose and sheer disbelief that I couldn't write further I just hit backspace; ctrl+a and shift+del would've taken longer.
There it is again, I know it, I can feel it. And people ask me why I end my writing abruptly.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
To hell with God, Prayers & Miracles
Dada passed away in the wee hours of September 8th. The only solace, we were with him when he breathed his last.
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