From the Writing Desk: The Chills

It’s the fag end of the year with hardly three days left to do everything I had taken on to complete in 2011. And the productivity in terms of actual writing done isn’t bad; in fact it has turned out to be better than I imagined. I’ve written about a dozen short pieces which are arguably better than my juvenile attempts from earlier years. My WIP is growing optimistically in the spheres of plot, characters, settings and all. Where is the boulder then?

Here. Now.

With hardly two days left to say good bye to this year, the eleventh year of the millenium, I can feel my hands being numbed by the cold(literally also). There’s a huge block of bricks sitting right in front of me hindering my progress. The much awaited smooth transition from this year to the next won’t materialise after all. There has to be some blobs of ink-shed now, I suppose. How else can the flow occur? I fear that something is lost. It’s certainly not a wanting for words or coherence. All the key elements remain while I’m afraid the spark of interest is wavering in the cold winds. The splinter in me suffers the danger being snuffed out.

It’s true- I have been way too hard on me. But the goal is so near me always and I don’t want to let it slip while I can help it. The harsh hours of straining, brainstorming and typing has certainly made the fountain of fuel in me go dry. When the rest of the world prepares to welcome the new year, the beginning, I sit by my desk thinking of a way to bid adieu to this eventful year in a decent manner.

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(From the Writing Desk will be regular feature on theliteraryshack that will discuss and share thoughts that pop up right from my writing place)

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2 thoughts on “From the Writing Desk: The Chills

    • Yes I felt a need to clear out the old. The zest with which my house is getting cleaned up to welcome the new year just spilled over here too 😉 And tea is such a romantic word in winter, don’t you think?

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