Writing , life

My writing reasons through the seasons.


I write because I want to write. Nothing complicated about it. As a child I saw myself as a poet, an Enid Blyton in making and of course Superman in the red cape.

While in school, I felt the urge to pen a few articles for the school magazine which I did. I remember the first one that was published got me plenty of pats on the back but the best one was from my brilliant friend who saw it as an allegorical tale and while he interpreted my piece, I stood stunned by his genius . He had transformed my simple writing into a work of art. It was not all roses though; I ran into the student editor next, who let me know, in her no nonsense tone, that it was her scissors that salvaged the mess I had submitted. My bubble burst.

I wrote off and on and many times was literally arm twisted into writing but at the back of my mind , I had this crazy wish to write a Mills and Boons story . After all how tough could it be to follow the basic love story template. According to it, our utterly gorgeous hero ,rich beyond dreams too , woos Plain Jane who transforms into a ravishing temptress soon enough. A mandatory third angle is brought in to unsettle our pair thereby forming the inevitable triangle. All is sorted in the end and it’s happily ever after . No , I didn’t write but I read many instead . Apparently it’s not so easy to craft love. Maybe one day !

Well , it’s not easy to craft a blog post either . I had made a pact with myself that I will write for the pleasure of it on whatever catches my fancy and do a good job.

In the past I have had an opinion on how horoscope play out in my life in the Zodiac wellness pill (it’s so true that it’s actually funny) and on zombies taking over the world (yup ! There is no accounting for taste ) . I even posted my spiralling journey into becoming a social loner (yes ! There is actually a term called social loner and I’m doing a great job of it).

With each post came the likes with the comments from friends and strangers, people who understood what I meant and responded positively. The notification bell on the WordPress would glow with the orange dot and feed my hunger for yet more likes and comments. It was the Facebook Like Syndrome all over again . My gratification bell pealed wildly.

My blog obsession was like a narcotic high with every incident evaluated for perhaps a blog post and each photo, a possibility for my blog of course. With the high came the crash – the lethargy to write or write something that I was proud of . “Humph!”, my internal voice / editor would say disapprovingly. “It’s rubbish! Rewrite!”

Sylvia Plath said, “I write because there is a voice within me that will not be still .” Yup ! I am in agreement with her literal words. Incidentally her poem ‘Daddy’ was a part of my higher education and that’s when I had to read up on her life to understand it better. She was brilliant but disturbed and unfortunately suicidal. She was successful both as a writer as well as in killing herself young. I wonder whether being damaged comes with the gifted package . Didn’t Van Gough slice off his ear and today his paintings are acknowledged as treasures. Aargh! Morbid thoughts!

Anyway back to my writing; to continue threading thoughts and weaving memories in my posts, to blog about things that I feel passionate about. Now that I have people following my musings (Hurray! And many thanks!) I expect them to expect me to write riveting posts but I will try not to let the orange dot on the notification bell rule my mind or my spirit (although honestly speaking, it’s work in progress).

Luckily my blog still excites me and that’s what makes blogging worthwhile. Isn’t that the reason why we are all here ?

6 thoughts on “My writing reasons through the seasons.

  1. People write for all sorts of reasons. Some write because they feel, some write because they are sad. Some are curious, some explore, some write of their fantasy world, some others write because they are hurt or are in love or for other equally important reasons. I think people who write have their minds so full of magic/miracles/hope/emotions/ideas/desires/opinions that they can no longer contain those merely in their head and are compelled to write. I have been a wanna-be writer for 20 years. I have always wondered why I want to write. The answer is elusive; or maybe the answer is ‘ALL OF THE ABOVE’.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your blog brought back the memories of my college days. While studying Ted Hughes, naturally, Sylvia Plath and her obsession with death came up and our lecturer, Deepak Sir, ( don’t remember his last name but had a huge crush on him) told us that she attempted 5 suicides and the last one in which she succeededd , she left a note: death is an art and I do it perfectly well… Googled the note, couldn’t find any reference but then how could Deepak Sir be wrong?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dying is an art.
      Like everything else,
      I do it exceptionally well.
      I do it so it feels like hell.
      I do it so it feels real.
      I guess you could say I have a call.
      Sylvia Plath, Ariel

      Tags: death

      Found this on Goodreads . Deepak Sir was not wrong , just that her suicide note was actually a series of poems . I remember reading that there was a possibility that she did not mean to go through the attempt but I suppose one has to be lucky every time to evade death ; death has to be lucky only once.


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