Mixed Bag: Books and links

It’s been a while since I chronicled my reads here at The Literary Shack. And the itch to update you all on my progress has finally turned into an urge to put my fingers on the keyboard. Talking about typing reminds of this beautiful post I read recently on Londoner’s Musings on The Delight of Handwriting. It got me yearning to hold a fountain pen and write something too. Agree or not there is this impregnate romanticism  in writing by hand with a treasured pen that is missing while you type on a computer.

And then I read these books in this couple of months gone by. Somehow all except one of these are collections of short stories! I am no disciplinarian when it comes to ticking books off my stack for it is my whim for the day that picks the books. And owing to this I’ve had to suffer a slow and long-drawn period of completing them giving me more time than I required for thinking, making notes, loving, getting bored,etc. So I thought of just giving you tiny bits of what I thought about them for I’ve spent way too much time already than I can afford to.

The first one to get whim-picked was Vintage Stuff by Tom Sharpe of which I’ve made a mention in one of my earlier posts. Reading it reminded me of watching something like Dennis the menace and I obviously didn’t want to let go of it. Ambrosially speaking, I read it like savouring each and every piece of a Chicago style pizza. It is witty, outright humorous and altogether a heartily enjoyable package. If you’re in need of some bumps you can sit snugly in a chair with this book and yet fly off it in bouts of laughter.

Then I read something pretty uncharacteristic of me. I read a book by Jeffery Archer! I picked up Twelve Red Herrings hastily on my way back home after a tiresome episode of this and that. And it was enjoyable for a best-seller for once! Now some would call my statement as prejudiced but I have my reasons. Anyway, the stories had racy plots, vibrant characters and twelve red herrings! What made the reading all the more pleasurable was the fact that I could keep wondering who this mysterious V.B is to whom the yellow, dog-eared copy belonged to! Trial and Error, Chunnel Vision are some of my favourites from the collection. Not to mention the latter did remind me of Luncheon by Maugham. I would recommend this one to anyone in need of a book to unclog blocks of both kinds- reader’s and writer’s.

Difficult Pleasures by Anjum Hassan is another of those profound books whose presence doesn’t leave you for days after you’re done with it. It has a story for every kind of  cosmopolitan you can find these days in India. There’s the loner, the uncanny artist, the mourner, the dissatisfied wife, the unloved kid and the like. What sets this one apart lies in its form: of short stories, its tone: one of melancholy and pensiveness and its clarity: of thought. I think we’ve found a very good writer in the short story genre and can hope to get lots more from her.

I’ve also been reading a lot on the internet off late which should explain the Three-books-in-two-months syndrome(of course with other added complications) and thought of leaving you with some of the links I found were worth my while.

~ The White Correspondent’s Burden by Jina Moore

The argument about journalism from Africa is often whittled into two camps, Afro-pessimists vs. Afro-optimists. But these binary camps, too, miss that Africa is many complex things, simultaneously. In our news broadcasts and our headlines, though, it’s usually framed by just one static thing: suffering.

~ Reading Rants: Jane Eyre is not submissive at The Compulsive Reader

The problem I have with the super sexy Jane Eyre is the fact that, as I stated in my previous post, she holds to her convictions. She stands by her values and living with Rochester, having a relationship (sexual or romantic) with him is wrong because he already has a wife. Sure, we all are screaming at her to just FORGET THE CRAZY WIFE AND KISS HIM ALREADY but she doesn’t, and that makes the ending so much sweeter. If Jane HAD given in to Rochester (and we wouldn’t have blamed her, really), she wouldn’t have been the Jane we all fell in love with and rooted for and cried for. And without Jane and her amazing character, Jane Eyre wouldn’t work as a novel.

~ 7 Essential Books on Music, Emotion and the Brain at Brain Pickings

~ Tale for our Times at The Hindu

A metaphorical and visual delight, the book is set in an age when a group of rabbits live in happy freedom from their natural predators and are busy violently taming Nature. Some of them seek to do away with warren dwelling, and liberate themselves from the tyranny of old ways.

~ Will Self: ‘I dont write for readers’ at The Guardian

“You can’t go on pretending that the writer is an invisible deity who moves around characters in the simple past,” he says. “I just can’t do that stuff. It’s lies. The world isn’t like that any more. The world is really strange. It’s not to be explained by ‘He went to the pub’. You cannot capture what’s going on with that form, to my way of thinking. You can create a divertissement, you can create a very fine entertainment, but you can’t reach any closer to any kind of truth about what it is to exist.”

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No time to turn at Beauty’s glance…

Clock

Clock (Photo credit: sleepinyourhat)

The sunday newspaper brought good cheer this morning with its awaited literary supplements. It is something I eagerly look forward to reading. But beautiful things come only in small packets and this particular supplement is published only once a month. And on beholding this month’s copy today I was overjoyed and instantly delved into its contents which as always had plenty to rout up from its depths. I discovered a completely new writer whom I felt I would really love without even knowing so much as what his books dealt with. And as the theme of his latest book surfaced in the article I knew exactly where my next investment had to go( The book happens to be Chronicles of a Corpse Bearer by Cyrus Mistry, if you were just curious to know).

After reading about five to six articles I had to restrict myself from finishing all the other inviting pieces for I have to sustain myself on this six paged ration for a whole month. And before I could indulge myself in gleaning information from around the world and my city the clock struck eleven! There was still a day’s work to be done with all the added obligatory activities to be performed being the diligent thing that I am. Where have those precious days where reading a warm newspaper was the only activity that Sundays called for? And of course cutting out fresh squares of articles for the clip book collection too.

The ubiquitous time crunch just revealed its presence to me yet again. At a time when I am already grappling with the grievous fact that my reading time has diminshed drastically being snatched away from my morning paper by sundry duties stung me bitter. That said there’s even less time for me to chronicle my thoughts on the things I read.

Off late I’ve been reading a lot online than offline. It’s always easier to steal a few minutes from work while using a computer. But with every underhand activity comes a peril. Here the danger lies in forgetting where I read a particular piece I adored. And even worse being unable to recall what I enjoyed reading so much altogether. So setting aside the greater grief of not being able to tick off books lying around my room in piles I thought to address this other issue which came with a plausible solution too. Several Google searches and conversations with the geeks concerned revealed Evernote, Pinterest, zoo something, etc as ideal apps to turn to.

But then again a little squirm arose from within. I saw yet another electronic versus traditional approach question surface. Can a mere cut-copy-paste action replicate the wholesomeness of taking notes by hand with the mind aligned on the same lines rather than focused on jumping to the next open tab on the screen?This really wouldn’t matter to a person with a reasonable amount of time to forage the net, pick, reason and ponder. But given the time constraints any solution to appease a self-proclaimed purist is far from the sight. I suppose such questions will continue to arise until the electronic approach completely converges with every aspect of life or it slowly disassociates itself fully. The former is bound to happen naturally or rather “unnaturally”.

So when we stand at the transition point where the direction of leap is uncertain attacking the problem at its heart is perhaps the best solution that I can think of. I simply have to make time. But how feasible is that? I don’t know. It’s as complex a question as the time we are living in.

Taking into account all these issues I’ve only arrived at this: It’s not an easy time to be a purist of any sort. And this: The spare time for those little joys in life is almost extinct.

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Note: The title is taken from one of my favourite poems by William Henry Davies.

Five life-changing books

Credit : booksaboutlife.com

Books can be the best possible source of constant companionship. They come in all different sizes and stories to suit each of our tastes and needs. But a book can sometimes be more than just an instrument to alleviate boredom. Sometimes they can one’s outlook in life. They are the grand category of books often referred to as ‘Life-changing’.

As a bibliophile and a book addict I’m happy to say I’ve seen my share of such books. Sometimes these are confused with self-help books but I’m referring to works, born out of the imagination of genius’ of writers. But don’t get it wrong. I’m not one against self-help books and I have my favourites in this section too. But how impactful they are to life is questionable according to me. For a truth put straight seldom is received in the way it should and so are secrets. And when it comes to life it’s one big secret and one big truth as well.

So, the first in this line that comes to my mind is J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. It’s got a beautiful philosophy underlying all the adventure. It teaches a most important lesson in life- Let go. And there are anecdotes aplenty to take as the escapade progresses.

Here’s a beautiful line from the book:

 The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.

Holden is the quintessential urban yogi of sorts whom I personally try to emulate in terms of outlook towards life and Salinger is the typical genius of a writer whose writing amazes me.

The next book that flashes in my mind is Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. It’s a one of a kind book and I’m only too happy that I was able to read last year. It was instantly my favourite the time I read it. Short and crisp though it is the point is nailed so very clearly. Even if the theme is not one that can so easily be said or understood. Only a writer who has felt it can impart such clarity of thought and fact to the reader and the reader in turn can capture the essence quickly. One needs a little spiritual spark to get anything out it; read the book at the least. But such a reader is bound to get a seed of the truth vital to his quest. I can say that with conviction for I did get a lot out of it. For others who simply want to get a glimpse into Buddha you get more than that. Herman Hesse has Buddha demystified for the commonest of people. I wouldn’t say it’s the most precise chronicling of Lord Buddha’s life and teachings but the essential extracts are set on a platter and hence the life-changing quality.

Oftentimes a book cannot be anything if it is a bestseller. A bestselling book is now a book which has reached its saturation level of popularity and its universal acceptance has sometimes invariably rendered it a clichéd image. It is a sad reality which won’t keep me from listing Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert here. Everything’s said and done and what’s more even shown in this case. Its honesty is pivotal to its success and reach and so is its passionate telling instrumental in striking that personal connection with me. The same lesson re-surfaces: Let go.

Now I come to another important book which is quite interesting in that I’m impelled to list it now but asked a year ago I would have fiercely detested its very mention. The book I’m referring to here is A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. For an Austen fan much accustomed to happy ending and sweet twists reading this one felt like chewing a big chunk of raw bitter gourd. But after exactly one year I feel there was much truth. It wasn’t a waste of labouring over seven hundred pages of one heavy and gruesome book after all. Interestingly I also noticed having noted down just three lines from the book. And here the golden lines are:

“In the end, it’s all a question of balance”

“You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair”

“…Please always remember, the secret of survival is to embrace change, and to adapt”

They may be lines we’ve heard over and over but that doesn’t reduce their truthfulness in the least. And put in their context and storyline they make one big, impactful picture.

Finally the last one that I’m going to name here, assuming that I’m to name only five books, is Wuthering Heights. Yes, the gothic romance by Emily Bronte gave to me understand what a hero can actually be at the age of thirteen. I read the book twice immediately after my first reading to just make sure that I didn’t make any mistake in discerning the story. One thing, it strangely made me braver in matters of death and other grim aspects of life. On a more philanthropic level it taught me what love can be. It can be dark. It can be grim. It can be excruciating. But it can be true too. Heathcliff is a one of a kind hero whom I’ll always turn to at some point of time in life repeatedly.

So, there’s a cherry picked version of books that strike me as life changing. As of now.

I hope to turn this into a feature where we have other book lovers talk about books that changed their lives and the lessons they imbibed from them. As always I look forward to your support and suggestions.

 

 

 

 

 

The Kindness Project

If you ask me after Greenpeace the next best initiative to support a good cause that actually matters to the people of the world, I will immediately tell you that it has got to be The Kindness Project. If I have to describe what it has been doing since its inception about a week ago, I will say it’s been doing magic.

Yes, magic that brings happiness to all people. These wonderful people, Elizabeth Davis, Christa Desir ,Sarah Fine, Liza Kane ,Amie Kaufman, Sara Larson ,Matthew MacNish, Sara McClung, Gretchen McNeil ,Tracey Neithercott ,Lola Sharp ,Michele Shaw, Meagan Spooner,  Carolina Valdez Miller,  have so beautifully taken it upon themselves to be the change they want to see. We all find ourselves making faces at snobs, debating about decreasing respect for another human being and the like. But it is truly commendable that these people took that extra step that matters. Now they have set the bead in motion and its rolling steady I must say.

Now solid proof of that can be found on all their blogs and the many blogs that will lead you to. And better still is my own story. My terrific friend D.B. Smyth decided to send her love for me one fine Monday, and stunned me and others alike with her gesture. It takes a golden heart to do something so truly kind and random. I know I can never say much with words when it comes to people whom I love, respect and admire. So bear with me. D.B. Smyth, you are the sweetest and I love you. May God bless you with all possible happiness! And I ask you all to please stop by her fantastic blog which is just as amazing as she is and give her your love.

And if you hadn’t heard about this project till now and feel inspired by it please join in and do your bit. As they say every teensy bit makes a difference.

Now after having felt the goodness and read so much about The Kindness Project I feel so inspired to do something. To do my bit. But I am at sea, let me tell you and I need suggestions.

So tell me, what do you think would be the best way to carry forward this initiative? Have you done anything that you would like to share?

The month in books: April

On the personal front April was a tiresome and trying month. I had very little or rather no time at all for myself and it seemed an unsettling period. The little hours of solitude that I snatched for my reading had me read these wonderful books which truly sustained me through those distressing days.

Firstly I owe the revival of my spirits to none other our beloved Rowling. Reading Goblet of fire sort of rekindled those feebly glowing embers of enthusiasm. It was my second time I think. The first time I read it, I remember clearly, was many years back and under a thick blanket, shuddering at the death of poor old Frank. I felt the very same fervour in this reading too. And I am pretty sure that it will never die out. My love for the Harry Potter series will definitely be with me throughout my life.

While there are many critics who argue that Rowling’s writing is too logical than fantastic I can but only detest that argument. Stories can be logical, magical, anything! That’s what stories are- impossible, possible, imaginative, real… The fact that as a child the book awed me and as an adult it remains a true and faithful friend, who sees me through tough times, even provides an unparalleled escape is a testimony to its brilliance. Only very few books have that power and the Potter books have it in them.

And with the alleviation of cloudy moods I even ventured headlong into ‘Pottermore’ and had loads of fun buying my wand and getting sorted. Mine’s a beautiful Sycamore with unicorn core wand and to my surprise I found myself in Hufflepuff house. Ouch! But the hat never goes wrong.

The other book that completely aided in my healing was Mr. Oliver’s Diary by Ruskin Bond. It’s a short and sweet book that will stay with me forever. It tells the endearing tale of a perfect school teacher, the strict and bendable, Mr. Oliver. It’s a children’s book and I loved it. Somehow I am never comfortable calling books as ‘Children’s books’ because I enjoy them wholly as any child would do and I am strictly way past my childhood. I never tire of them and it isn’t surprising that I turned to these very books in a very troubled time. Not intentionally though, but perhaps instinctively.

This also tells a very good principle to keep in life if you ask me. Stay a child at heart. When a book meant for kids can cheer one up so well, keeping your heart and mind like a child’s can certainly go a long way to leading a happy and fulfilling life. Yes and the book also has many a treats on the platter to cater to every imaginable childish craving- from croaky, slimy frogs to hot, savoury snacks to snow, ghosts and a cute love story.

And then I read a painting. Yes, I can only describe that book as a work of pure art painted in words. How else can anybody discuss about a work by the Nobel laureate, Rabindranath Tagore? ‘Shesher Kavitha’ a Bengali masterpiece by Tagore was recently translated to English by Dilip Basu. I recently read a little review of the translated version, ‘The Last Poem- A novel’ and instantly ordered it online. It was a long wait of forty eight hours before I held it my hands. This one is a true feast for the romantic sort. It is tragic, in a way, mind you yet it is not. That subtlety in its storyline kept me in a trance for hours later. Once taken up it is next to impossible to put it down. The story pulls you into its mire of poetry, nature and love; the three very elements that I live on. It is a beautiful little novel and in a way renders true beauty to the word beautiful.

Here’s a tiny eloquent poem, one of the many poems that bridge the romance :

Waterfall, in the crystals

of your flow,

The sun and stars

See each other

And here is another favourite of mine:

Let the shadows swing and play

Upon your waters,

Let the shadows mingle

With the music of your laughter,

Give it a voice

The voice of eternity.

The last poem in the book, from which the book derives its name, is a classic. There are several surreal illustrations, by a very talented Dinakar Kowshik, interspersed between the pages and they are great tools that aid in gluing to mind the quintessence of the characters. All in all, one marvellous book that I can just look at and feel happy.

 

 

Rejection Slips

They give me more than one kind of feeling when I get them. Before anything the first thing that my mind tells me is: Someone actually read your work. That was the point of writing after all; to get at least one other living being to see your work. The sadness dwells in another core of me, a place which actually steers the day-to-day activities of my life. So such slips do affect my life in a way.

So if there was some small positive part to rejection slips in my view, it was that. Now the larger part of the story deals with the traumatic side. Naturally.

With every rejection slip comes the feeling that the day of being published will perhaps, never come. That one dream which struggles to sustain itself despite all the other things in life that don’t actually matter might just stay unrealised.

Even though positivity is something I try to keep a good stock of, it just doesn’t help beyond a point; it falls flat in the desert of discouragement where one is thirsty for reassurance. Now that is something harder to come by than the goal itself. While two close family members really believe the day will come, and a few friends who don’t know the intensity of despair try to cajole you and even pull you to a bad movie, no Angel is out there waiting to bestow kindness and reassurance. If there is one that’s got to be me and I’m only a novice Angel!

Writing is a lonely process despite the fact that I love it more than anything. What with the other hundred issues that can bog me down I have to handle the solitary feeling too. Sometimes being alone is a great comfort but at times when I sit staring at rejection slips in my hand it is pure hell. It even stalls the WIP which clamours for attention and polishing. It’s a sad state.

But there’s one other thing that rejection slips can do. A positive one too (I really didn’t see this coming when I began writing this post). It makes one brave. If I’m writing about my rejection slips with an intention of sharing it with the world, when the rest of world is proclaiming slogans like “My First book is in print” or “I sold my recent novel” or “I signed a three book deal”, then that’s something to feel happy about.

While sailing through one of my rejections I happened upon writer Ellen Jackson’s website. And these priceless words really did some good healing work.

Rejection-proof your manuscript. Write from your heart. Everyone is looking for a little bit of wisdom to help them get through life with courage and grace. Do you have wisdom to share? Is your gift humor? Can you make a child laugh? Can you tell the truth in a new way? What was important to you when your were a child? Make the clear expression of your passion your primary goal. Then show your writing to friends who know you and will understand what you’re trying to say. If one person “gets” it, you’ve planted a seed. Your writing is successful–no matter how the rest of the world judges you. The rest is just ego.

And this piece, Rejection Slips: A balm for Writers and as certain as Death by Gerald. W. Haslam is by far the most wise and sensible take on this sensitive ailment facing writers. In the essay Poet Donna Champion is quoted to have said, “I wouldn’t mind rejection so much if editors would just take the time to send a personal note” and I couldn’t agree more. This is greatest form of reassurance in my opinion. Being replied to with a little note that’s personal gives that feeling of the all important “belongingness” which is so valuable to writers.

This particular line, I felt, was the keystone point of the whole piece:

It is important to recognize that there is no sham in receiving rejection letters. For someone who wants to be published there may actually be shame in not receiving some, since that often means a writer is not really trying. Jack London once claimed to have received 400 in a single year, but he hung in there and eventually saw a great deal of his material in print.

So the deal here is to try, and try, and get there! And even if I don’t exactly wear shirts like these I’ve learnt to accept them just as any other  felicitous news.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Travel Aspirations

The time seems near, if it has not actually arrived, when the chastened sublimity of a moor, a sea, or a mountain will be all nature that is absolutely in keeping with moods of the more thinking among mankind. And ultimately, to the commonest tourist, spots like Iceland may become what the vineyards and myrtle-gardens of South England are to him now; and Heildelberg and Baden be passed unheeded as he hastens from the Alps to the sand-dunes of Scheveningen. – Thomas Hardy, The Return of the Native.

Certainly Hardy’s foresight ran clear and the whole world is abuzz with travelling to exotic places on the planet. The latest issue of my Traveller magazine tells me in glossy enticing pages all that I can maybe see in ten lives. It is exciting for me to merely pick up an issue of the magazine from the stands. The travel bug bit me when I was busy talking to the stars and having dinners with the moon.

I didn’t quite realise how fortunate I’ve been to have travelled far across the planet in my own small way. Until recently I actually took the time out to mark out the places on the planet I’ve been to. That is always the easier thing to do when it comes to journaling your travel aspirations. But nevertheless I did go a bit further, ambitious that I am in these sorts of things, and listed down places I’ve got to go before…

Well, the city of lights, the city of my favourite bookstore, the city of history , the city of fashion and French still tops in my list. But that was that until I read- I, Literary Tourist by Daniel Nester. The writer talks about his wonderful experiences at a Bed & Breakfast. After reading it I just thought, “How sublime woulds’t that be?” There’s very little in today’s world where book lovers can experience the thrill of fiction in real life. Though author talks, book clubs, other little ventures are garbled here and there, there’s a lacking in terms of wholesomeness in the experience for it comes under the drone of everyday life, though the general definition of a ‘Literary Tourist’ as given in Daniel’s piece includes these activities. You have to munch on a granola bar while steering your way to the book club. You have to tackle that pending office work before you fizz out.

And the idea of Bed and Breakfasts themed on a book or a writer is very appetising to me personally. Though the commercial aspect of it might repel some people away from it, it must be noted that all that is unbelievably exciting is not bad. I wouldn’t mind saving up a few months for it. If it’s easy and worth the while to do that for an Audi it certainly applies here as well if you’re one of the happy dreamers like me. And the title of ‘Literary Tourist’ comes along with it too! Any new tags to my little literary cap rather my Literary Shack is very welcome.

Daniel discusses about a few places that are popular like ‘The Wizarding World of Harry Potter’ and Dickens World in Kent. As a prospective literary tourist my itinerary looks something like this:

~ The Poetry Ridge Bed and Breakfast

~ The Wizarding World of Harry Potter

~ The Anne Frank Museum

~ Jane Austen’s House and Museum

~ Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum

~ Robert Frost Farm

~ Stratford-upon-Avon

~ Brook Farm Inn

I solely relied on this marvellous website, LiteraryTourist.com to make up my list though they didn’t actually let me get to the details without registration but its listing is almost exhaustive. Now step two in my attempt to become a fancy Literary Tourist is about getting there and with enough dough too.

Looking Back

 

The weather outside resonates with my deepest elements and it’s that perfect time that I had been waiting for to let out a short round up of the year’s happenings. I smile as I look at the list of books I’ve read this year for I am quite pleased with it. The books I’ve enjoyed reading the most are(in no particular order):

Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins

The sixth lamentation by William Brodrick    

Mansfield Park By Jane Austen 

The Curious case of the dog at night time by Mark Haddon 

Lake by Banana Yoshimoto    

The Power of Now by Echart Tolle     

Notes from a small room by Ruskin Bond     

Prom and prejudice by Elizabeth Eulberg

Room by Emma Donoghue

Lola and the boy next door by Stephanie Perkins 

A room with a view by E.M.Forster 

A moveable Feast By Ernest Hemingway

Now these are books I can safely recommend to anyone who wants a good read. In fact these have made the journey through this year a bit more joyous and intensely insighful for me.

I did watch a lot of movies but as for favourites, they would be:

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (2011)

Pride and Prejudice (2005 version)

Pirates of the Caribbean: On stranger tides (2011)

The Adventures of Tin Tin (2011)

Night at the musuem: Battle of the Smithsonian(2009)

Alice in Wonderland (2009)

Julius Caesar (1953)

The Jane Austen Book Club (2007)

Now for the more touchy things. I’m truly thankful to my sister and friend Daisy for making this year a fun and memorable one as ever. And I’m equally grateful for my buddies on the blogosphere who kept the thirst for my passions alive through their support and inspirational presence. And thank you to one and all who read my blog and feel that it is worth something at the least.

I hope the New Year brings with it loads of lessons and trials to make us all better people. And may all our lives move towards our goals which shine brightly before us every minute of the day. I’ll leave you now with good hope for the new beginning and two precious quotes.

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”    ―     Ernest Hemingway

Ring out the old, ring in the new,   Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.  – Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

 

 

 

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)