Post # 6 - Where does writing come from?

I was lucky to meet a group of very interesting people on Saturday at the DWL (Desi Writers' Lounge) Write-in session. We had an interesting discussion on writing which quickly jumped from 'what are you working on at the moment' to 'why and how do you write'.

The responses, as expected, were varied and quite fascinating. One gentleman said that for every task, including writing, one must have a burning desire. No desire = no result. Another participant was of the view that writing either comes from euphoria or tragedy. Travel too, he felt, helps one to write better - experience the world with all your senses and then write was his mantra. Two ladies weren't in agreement over this. One of them, a poet, felt that it wasn't necessary to experience feelings, for e.g., darkness, in order to write about them. The other lady was of the opinion that the human mind has unlimited imaginative powers and it is not essential for one to travel in order to write well.

Like I said, it was a very intense discussion. Was there a conclusion? Did we reach a common ground? Yes and no. But it did get me thinking - where does writing come from? What is that place inside us or in our environment that creates stories? 

Observations, not experiences - I feel writers, more than any other artist, need to be super observant. There are so many things around us which can provide inspiration for stories or characters. A conversation with a stranger, an abandoned house, a clothes line on the terrace of a crumbling mansion, an old photograph, a fleeting glimpse of a woman in a bus with kohl rimmed eyes or a man seated next to his suitcase on a flight (I've seen this and yet not written a story around it!) - anything can trigger a story.

Write without fear - As far as my writing is concerned, I'm almost always afraid. I think this fear took hold of me in Grade 5. I wrote a story about a girl who had two pet rabbits. I named the rabbits in my story after the pet rabbits of a close friend of mine. Anyways, I killed the rabbits in the story and my friend was extremely upset with me. And in Grade 5 when the most popular boy, who also happens to be your friend, gets upset at you there are serious consequences and repercussions. Okay, nothing so dramatic but I think this fear has now occupied a permanent space inside my system. Fear of others. Fear of how the world will react to my story. Fear of not writing the right story. Just this deep rooted fear that nobody, ever, will read anything I write. The best stories come from a place where they can grow without fear.

Give your imagination a free hand - The problem is that from the time we're small and learning to draw and colour, we're told that the sky is blue and the grass is green. If, God forbid, we colour the grass purple or bright orange, we are considered odd. As we grow older, we try and put our ideas into correct boxes also. Sometimes, by doing this, we kill our stories even before starting them. Don't limit yourself. Let go of your pre-conceived notions and follow your story with all your heart. 

Consistency - At the end of the day, writing comes from putting one word after the other. No matter if the words aren't coming easily, or aren't perfect - it's important to keep writing. One day something will click and all the words will come together.

We all have stories to tell. It's just that some people out there make collecting and writing stories a priority while the rest of us keep waiting for the muse to make an appearance. The funny thing is, some of the best writers didn't wait, nor believed in the muse. 

'To excel in any of the arts, you must have patience, assiduity, industry and discipline'. 

                                                                                                                      Somerset Maugham

Snoopy doesn't believe in the muse either.

Image: Google

                                  

The power of words

Words have power. They help us to weave stories and narratives. Stories are powerful too. They are a barrier between us and reality. Words, stories, books - they are like a safe house. A space where one can momentarily forget life. 

I've been struggling a lot lately with words. They seem to have packed their bags and walked away from my little writing room. Only I am to blame for their departure for I betrayed them, yet again, even though I had promised to stick with them this time for better or worse. All through November last year they kept poring onto the page, helping me meet my target and what did I do with them? Come December and I turned away from them as if they never existed. 

Words have power but they never leave you. I know, deep down, that they've not abandoned me. All I need to do is believe. Believe in their power and more importantly, believe in myself. 

Post NaNoWriMo high + 2017 writing goal

There has to be a name for the feeling you get when you are not just happy, but visibly impressed with something you've written. Regular adjectives like delighted, ecstatic, overjoyed, in seventh heaven and all don't come close to describing it. There is this deep level of satisfaction and probably a sense of relief. At least that is what I experienced today when I went through some parts of the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo last year. Most important of all, my self -doubt (which I've struggled with so much over the years and have written about also) has evaporated into thin air. For the moment, at least. It might just make a comeback if I become too complacent and stop writing!

So the goal is to write 50,000 words before November. Or maybe even a bit more. Just a bit. 

You can read about my self doubt at the DWL official blog here and on my blog here. 

November is coming

I think the biggest cliche' in our lives is the constant complaint of how time flies really quickly and it only seems like yesterday when this happened or that happened. But no matter how banal this sounds, we are kind of helpless at the hands of the goddess of time. I guess we kind of pay homage to her when we wring our hands and complain about the fleeting hours, days, months, years, decades and so on. 

It was a year back, in November, when I undertook the biggest challenge of my writing life. And another November is here...how time flies! I participated in NaNoWriMo and ended up writing 50k words of a fantasy novel. They weren't the perfect words, and it wasn't the perfect story but it was a great achievement. After many years I was able to fight with my insecurities, overcome them and write (I've written about that struggle at the DWL blog which you can read here). 

I am preparing for another NaNoWriMo and, somehow, it seems more daunting than last year. I don't know why. Maybe because now I know what it really takes to write 50k words. I think the fear is that if I don't work seriously on my novel this time around, I'll never be able to complete it and it will remain a story, in my mind only. That is a very scary thought because now there are other stakeholders involved; my characters. And I have this fear that if I don't put their stories together, they will haunt me in old age. It's a grim thought but I know, deep down, that it can happen....that it will happen.

On a slightly less morbid note, I am looking forward to losing myself in my creation. Reality can really sap your spirits sometimes and what better way to escape from it then to immerse yourself in a good fantasy tale. Especially one in which you control everything. 

How to keep and feed a muse

Ray Bradbury recommends a healthy diet for the muse consisting mainly of poetry. Read poetry everyday of your life, is one of the tips he gives in his book, The Zen of Writing. It's a great book. Easy to read and digest. Bradbury sounds like a friend. An older writer friend whom you visit occasionally and ask for advice over a cup of coffee, or a glass of whiskey, in a very by the way manner so it doesn't seem that that was the only reason you actually visited him. And he tells you, in a matter of fact way, to read poetry. Which, of course, is NOT the answer you were looking for.

It wasn't the answer I was looking for either and this post isn't about how I turned to poetry and it changed my writing life forever. Far from it. After writing on and off since the past few months I've realised that feeding the muse is not as simple as Bradbury makes it look.

Who is my muse? I think my muse is a pessimist by nature, generally good-for-nothing, and mostly  sarcastic. Whenever I sit down to write, it makes me feel uncomfortable and foolish about my writing. It also makes it very enticing not to write. Isn't it supposed to do the opposite? No matter how much and what I read, it refuses to get motivated and help me.

So I've decided to let my muse go. At least for the time being. Poetry is food for the soul but it wasn't really helping me take my story forward. The first time I realised I didn't need a muse to write was during NaNoWriMo in November last year. Maybe the goal of reaching 50k words acted like a muse but I didn't indulge in reading poetry or prose during that time. All I did was sit at my desk everyday and write. After November, writing became a bit of a struggle because the muse returned. It started creating uncertainties and doubts in my mind about my work and I became a victim to its rantings, once again. 

Today I've decided to let my muse go. At least for the time being. It is a little strange to shun it so because I'm afraid it might never return. But at the same time, I feel like it isn't there for me when I need it most. Or as Oscar Wilde put it:

'Art will fly if held too lightly,

Art will die if held too tightly,

Lightly, tightly, how do I know,

Whether I'm holding or letting Art go?'

Where's your muse today? 

a new year post - sort of

I'm not a very new year party person. Fireworks are nice but in Karachi the fireworks can be lifetaking so it's much safer to stay indoors and just watch the celebrations in different parts of the world on television. I think I've not been to a single new year celebration party in the past ten years. In fact, come to think of it, I can actually count the number of such celebrations I've attended in the past 35 years on my fingertips! 

[I'm still not sure if that's cool or not].

While counting the various celebrations on my fingertips just now, one particular party stood out. I think it was in 1993 probably. Winter holidays in Karachi, six of us cousins together to celebrate the new year, music in my grandmother's drawing room, and pizza after midnight. We even had a dress code I think - white shirts and jeans. It was a pretty amazing party but then everything seems amazing in retrospect!

A new year with new possibilities and new adventures. Resolutions? Yes, a few. One of the things I am doing this year is the Memory Jar project. Elizabeth Gilbert calls it the Happiness Jar. So it's a simple idea. Every night, or maybe early next morning, write down the things that made you happy that day. At the end of the year or more precisely, on 31st Dec, open the jar and go through your little notes. Not only will you relive the many happy moments of the entire year, it'll also give you an idea of a)basically how happy you were most of the time and more importantly, b) you didn't require a lot of material things to feel great. 

[I even gave my friends small memory jars last year although now that I look at them, they do seem quite small for the entire year]. 

Photo courtesy: Batool Curmally

So here's what I really have to say in my new year post:

Try and appreciate the little things in life. It might sound clichéd but it is something we almost never do. Share a good laugh with a friend and cherish that. Good friends are so hard to find (and someone recently told me that it is almost impossible to develop meaningful friendships after 35. Is it?). Read. Whenever you find time - in the car, in waiting areas, departure lounges, on a flight. It's a wonderful escape and don't we all need an escape now and then. Watch good films especially foreign language films (may I recommend La Grande Bellezza and Youth?). Do at least one new thing this year. Just one can't be so tough. Create something. 

And write it all down, everyday, and put it in your memory jar. 

50k words, one month, endless tea = a novel?

Writing is a funny thing. And frustrating, exhausting, tiring, sleep-depriving, stressful, stress-free, scary, and yet, extremely fulfilling.

Before I signed up for NaNoWriMo, I spent most of my time making plans about writing. Most of my effort went into everything BUT writing. I read endless articles, browsed websites full of advice from authors (dead & alive) and took lots of printouts which I conveniently stuffed in various folders. I sat at the writing desk at various times of the day to ascertain which was the ‘perfect’ time. I also rearranged the objects on the desk to create a zen writing place. I was doing everything, except writing. 

NaNoWriMo changed all that. It made me realise that writing will happen only if I sit down each day and put one word after another. That’s all there is to it. It might not be the perfect prose, and it isn’t. It might be a first draft or maybe not. It might not be anything but just 50k words I cranked out to win a challenge. Or it just might (and I'm hoping with all my heart that it is!) be the skeleton of a novel. 

This month I have realised the magic of writing. I had never reached a point in my writing before where I considered it an escape from reality. I never thought I’ll be able to create a world, through words alone, so real that I’ll actually start believing it exists. It comes with some downsides also. One of them is a permanent ache between the shoulder blades. But the feeling of exhilaration and achievement I have felt this past one week after writing a couple of thousand words is just amazing. It probably is akin to having a baby. There is the pain, the exhaustion, the sleepless nights but in the end, it’s all worth it. 

It better be! 

*repeat to self all day, every day - first draft, first draft, first draft*

Image: Google

The First Step

How do you make a resolve to change your life?  

Resolve. To decide firmly on a course of action. And not be distracted by both external and internal forces. It is the internal forces which usually derail me. Once upon a time I had decided on a course of action, shut myself away from the world and prepared for an entrance test. 99% in my external environment believed I had no chance but I knew I'll nail it. And I did. (Of course, the irony is that in retrospect I think it was probably the worst decision of my life).

I keep repeating this story to myself a lot and I keep asking myself, why can't I do the same for the things I want to do most now? Why can't I shut myself in my study and write? Something I've wanted to do since I was eleven. Why is it so hard to stay up creating stories and weaving narratives when I had done it all so many years ago for a boring, good for nothing business school entrance test?

I've gone over these questions many times and I think I've found an answer. I'm afraid of failure. Of not writing something good enough. This fear is so great that I'm terrified of putting pen to paper. This fear is a reason why I've kept away from the blog. And if I'm really honest, I've sort of used this fear as an excuse not to write. 

Today, the third day of the new year, I decided to chuck this fear out of the window and started writing. Even if it's just this blog entry. One has to start somewhere...

Do You Need to Make Space?

The most important thing about writing (besides the actual physical act) is being true to oneself. Whenever I put on a guard and try and write the perfect sentence or try and come up with the perfect topic, I end up a) either not writing or b) writing the most boring stuff or c) putting up a quote on the blog. And whenever a, b or c happens, I know I'm not writing for myself.

I went over my blog entries from the beginning (Nov 2009) and noticed a gradual change in the posts. What I'd love to write here is that the quality of my posts, both in terms of content and writing style, has improved manifold but the truth is far from that. My posts on the bean bag started off in a voice that was honest and well, mine. But later posts, say in the past two years, are more contrived and boring. I'm trying to make an effort to woo readers and make people like me. And in doing so I've alienated myself from myself. 

Finding a solution to such a dilemma demands willpower and courage. The courage to face the fears and the obstacles within plus the willpower to bring a change. Friends can reach out for support and say words of encouragement. Self help articles or books can raise motivational levels. But real change can only come from within and ONLY if we make time for it. Whether it is writing, or working out, or doing yoga or reading - if we don't make space for it everyday, it just WON'T happen. 

So the moral of the story is simple. So simple that all the above can be narrowed down to two words - make space. 

I have to Make Space for writing. 

What do you need to make space for?

Little things matter

'Look for the little loves, find and shape the little bitternesses. Savor them in your mouth, try them on your typewriter'. 

(Zen in the Art of Writing - Ray Bradbury)

How I lost my books to the aliens...

Or in other words, how I never managed to finish the 15/15/30 project.

It wasn't the number of books, or the number of pages, or the lack of time or motivation which led me to abandon the project. Nor was it the fact that no one was reading along with me although I had high hopes that someone might join this crazy attempt. I am now revealing the actual, real and TRUE reason behind why I lost steam. 

There was an alien invasion in my backyard the night of 11th of July and these particular aliens only wanted to read books by female authors and since they were short of time (if they overstayed there was a slight chance of detection by the dog next door. Who is actually a four legged creature, with a tail and all. No subtle references here!) they grabbed the first books which they found which just happened to be the very stack which I was planning to read. Of course you can imagine how I went into a state of misery and shock to find no books the next morning when I woke up and thus, I was forced to abandon the project. 

No? You don't believe me? 

Well, there is another reason but it doesn't sound very plausible to me. There just might be a teeny weeny chance that I sort of backed down from the project because I didn't like the quality of my reviews. And I came to the conclusion that I am a failure with words and what makes me think I can ever write?  But, the likelihood of THAT happening is so much less than aliens disappearing with my books. 

Or is it?

[In Search of Love and Beauty was the fourth and last book I read for the challenge and you can find the incomplete review here].

How the POET differs from the NOVELIST

"For the difference between poets and novelists is this - that the former write for the life of the language  - and the latter write for the betterment of the world".

                                                                        (Possession - a Romance by A.S.Byatt)

The True Writer

A writer only becomes a true writer by practising his craft, by experimenting constantly with language, as a great artist may experiment with clay or oils until the medium becomes second nature, to be moulded however the artist may desire. 

(Possession - a Romance by A.S. Byatt)

Some thoughts on 'The Mystic Masseur'

I'm not a huge fan of V.S. Naipaul and the only reason which propelled me to read this book was the Ivory Merchant film made on it. The movie was a disappointment which came as a surprise since most films made under the Ivory Merchant banner are very impressive (I recently saw Anita Desai's 'In Custody' and liked it immensely) but this one fell short especially where the screenplay was concerned.

The book, on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise. It was the right length unlike 'A House for Mr. Biswas' which seemed never-ending. The few conclusions I've come to (on a lighter note) after finishing it are:

1. The quantity of books on display in your house is directly proportional to making a good impression on people. Especially if you live in a place where most people are illiterate. 

Even though a lot of literate people around us don't read these days, I'm afraid large quantities of books will fail to impress people in your social circle. Invest in an expensive, designer book shelf and fill it up with expensive looking 'coffee table' books in order to impress. 

2. If you're not able to do something it is because it wasn't meant to be rather than your lack of skills or hard work. As the protagonist, Ganesh, put it, "We never are what we want to be, he wrote, but what we must be".

See? Just blame fate. 

3. A tip for a successful marriage? Don't read or buy too many books. Unless you have a back up plan of becoming a 'mystic healer'. 

4. The new 'it' word is mystic. 

5. It's a good idea to become a writer in a place where a) no one belonging to your race/nationality has ever written anything, b) there are no literature festivals and c) the only printing press just prints wedding cards, or handbills.

6. Your physical appearance is very important when it comes to climbing the ladder of success and wealth. Don't just play the part, LOOK the part. 

7. Coca Cola served in very fancy glasses on a hot summer day is guaranteed to win people over. These days replace it with something stronger and preferably NOT black.

8. Politics is the way forward to change your life forever. (Remember the emphasis is on YOUR life).

9. It is okay to change your name from 'Pundit Ganesh Ramsumair' to 'G. Ramsay Muir'. Modesty is not in fashion these days.

And finally,

10. Write what you want to write and if you pour your heart and soul into it, it will find the right readers. 

Image: Google

Colette on Writing

"We cannot paint a beloved face without passionately distorting it - and who speaks willingly of the things that belong to real love? But we can catch and hold - with words or with the brush - the crimson flush of dying leaves, the green of a meteor against the blue night, a moment of dawn, a catastrophe...Pictures which of themselves have no sense or depth, but which we invest with meaning or sharp foreboding - they bear forever the stamp of some particular year, mark the end of some mistake or the culmination of a spell of prosperity. For that reason no one of us can ever swear that he has painted, contemplated, described in vain". 

( My Mother's House - Colette)

January 28th was Colette's birthday. Read about her novella The Cat here on the blog.

Image: Google

Think, write, read, create...

....and live in the moment, all through this new year.

Covered in dust and waiting to be rescued!

"The book was thick and black and covered with dust". (Possession – A.S.Byatt)

The above description holds true for my blog, except that you can’t see the layers of dust on the internet. 

The layers of dust that settle down between the pages of a book that lies dormant, waiting to be read and handled.

"Its boards were bowed and creaking; it had been maltreated in its own time. Its spine was missing, or rather protruded from amongst the leaves like a bulky marker. It was bandaged about and about with dirty white tape, tied in a neat bow". (Possession - A.S.Byatt)

[Beanbag tales is going to complete its fourth year on the blogosphere in November. A good time to reflect and analyze if its actually been worth the effort. You can read about its creation in 2009 here].

The Secret Compartment in a Writer's brain...

"In a radio interview in 1970, Roald Dahl described the utmost sensual delight he got when he went up to his hut, closed the door and sat down in his chair.

You become a different person, you are no longer an ordinary fellow who walks around and looks after his children and eats meals and does silly things, you go into a completely different world. I personally draw all the curtains in the room, so that I don't see out the window and put on a little light which shines on my board. Everything else in your life disappears and you look at your bit of paper and get completely lost in what you're doing. You do become another person for s moment. Time disappears completely. You may start at nine in the morning and the next time you look at your watch, when you're getting hungry, it can be lunchtime. And you've absolutely no idea that three of four hours have gone by. So when you meet a musician or a writer, you shouldn't be surprised that they look exactly like ordinary people, because in that part of their lives they are...All the best artists that I've known, like Hemingway and Steinbeck and EB White and Thurber, behave very normally in their private lives...They are ordinary people who have a secret compartment somewhere in their brain which they can switch on when they become quite alone and go to work."

Tomorrow, 13th September, is Roald Dahl's birthday. And the celebrations are going to go on all this month on the beanbag. 

Source: Storyteller - The Life of Roald Dahl by Donald Sturrock

Picture: Google Images

Addictions are Escape

I didn’t even realize I was trying to escape, since the past month, till this very moment. Every other day, depending on how fast I was, I was running away from reality into other worlds through the cheapest, most effective form of escape – reading.

It is a most successful method. You must try it. Of course, there are chances you might get hooked onto this readscape (a very lame attempt on my part to combine read & escape) and so, if you have even the slightest tendencies of forming addictions, read no further. If you choose to, welcome!

Reading, literally, shuts you out from your surroundings. You might be anywhere and yet you are only where the words are; on a cliff with Howard Roark, looking for Aunt Agatha’s dog in a hotel room with Bertie Wooster, stuck in a tree with Winnie the Pooh, in a space egg with Tik-Tik, or in India during the Mughal Era – you can be in any which place except at the airport, in the car, in a waiting room and even the loo (a prolonged mental absence is not really possible here but you get the point). You put your life on hold. Your worries, pains, defeats, failures, and even responsibilities drown in the sea of words.

I don’t just shut my surroundings; I get sucked into the story and adopt its surroundings.  Sometimes leaving is easy, I just jump into another book and befriend a new set of characters. Sometimes I have to crawl out and drag myself away. The worst is when I don’t want to let go and end up leaving a part of myself in the books I love. And whenever I want to re-live that part of me, I open the book again and get sucked right in.  Therefore, I avoid re-reads.

What is said about the power of the written word is true. Books have immense powers. If you have stifled a sob after reading a book or felt a knot tighten in your stomach while going over a paragraph or maybe put the book aside because you can’t take the suspense/terror/pain/joy anymore, you have a fair idea of their strength.

This is one of the things that makes reading dangerous and very, very addictive. And I am an addict.

But now, sadly, I need to take stock of my addiction. I need to learn to let go of the stories I read so that I can create my own. I have to make room for the characters I create, in my own words, and leave the others inside their stories, between the pages of their book, on the shelf. They’ll always be there but only when I open the book and allow them to help me escape. 

But..I need to finish my current dose. It's the last one. Promise. 

Prelude

The brief hiatus in my writing was brought about, partially, by a visit from Miss Procrastination, an old acquaintance. Though she pretends to be a friend, nothing can be further from the truth. She does everything in her power to keep me away from my writing work and I must admit, succeeds at it too. Even though she loves to take all the credit, she owes her success to me for it is my own fear which prevents me from putting pen to paper. My own fear being fear of failure and it is, at the moment, the biggest demon in my life which I cleverly avoid by keeping the company of the accursed Miss Procrastination.

This fear is so great that whenever I sit down to write it is with this conclusion in mind that the finished product will be mediocre. Since my mind is made up the result, also, is never good. I have provided my fear with complete access to my mind, heart and soul and in doing so, killed my self-belief and replaced it with loathing. So that everything I write, I hate. This was especially true over the last month and in the search for an escape from this fear I came across this.

‘Until you know who you are you can’t write’ – Salman Rushdie

Questions started pouring into my mind. Who am I? As a person and as a writer? Are they two different beings or one? Am I an honest writer? Is there any other fear which has me in its grip? Should I write with the blue pen or the black one? Do I finish the incomplete projects even though the new ideas are more exciting? Will I ever be able to produce a good work of writing? Why am I afraid of going through the process of creation?

The last question was my Eureka moment. I am running away (sprinting it seems) from the actual physical pain of writing which involves isolating myself not just from the external environment but from my non-writer self (which tempts me to play Angry Birds Space). I am running away from re-writing and editing, from spending days on a single page or chapter, from finding the right words which will lend expression to my characters’ feelings, from abandoning an attempt at a story even though it has an awesome title, from sleepless nights and feverish anxiety…and above all from discovering the truth -do I have what it takes?

There was no relief in this discovery – only a sense of shame and guilt, followed by anger.

This mixed plate of feelings helped me overcome my fear and I have banished the demon from my writing kingdom. With the demon gone, Miss Procrastination, too, has become redundant. She packed her bags and left a few days back to inhabit, I’m guessing, the dwellings of some other artist.

It’s very quiet around here now and although no writing revolution has come into my life yet, I have managed to put pen to paper.