Blogging

  • Blogging,  Personal

    The process of writing

    About 15 months ago, I published something. Not on my blog. Not on twitter, which is the only form of reading anyone does any more. I put myself out there and published a piece of writing that was never meant to see the light of the day. I did not think, because if I had, I probably would have hit shift+delete on the entire folder. I looked up Kindle Direct Publishing and put it out there for people to read. I wanted it to be free, but Amazon does not let you do that. So, I put a minimum price to it.

    Fifteen months later, I got some feedback. Feedback that I did not expect or anticipate. I got what I can only call constructive, even if it did not feel quite so constructive when I received it. “You got me invested in the character and gave me nothing in return,” he said. It felt like an attack on my writing. Like he had unreasonable expectations of me. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to tell him I’m not Margaret Atwood. That my story was a simple one. One of love. I stayed upset for some time. But then, you cannot really create something if you are not willing to learn from those experiences.

    When I think back to the process of writing, I realise some very important truths. My story could have been better. The narrative could have been tighter. I could have said the exact same thing in 4 pages instead of 14 or 24. I could have been brutal in cutting out unnecessary embellishments and pointless storylines. In hindsight, there are a hundred things I could have done that would have made my book (for want of a better word) more readable. But I also realise that when we write, we invest a part of ourselves in it. We tell stories inspired by our own experiences and observations. But what we fail to realise as writers, as creators and as artists is that our characters are different from us. When he told me that my protagonist disappointed him, I took it to mean that I disappointed him. That his estimation of me as an individual had somehow fallen because of his response to my writing. And in that, I am completely wrong. While my protagonist may have some similarities with me as an individual, we are actually different. And unless I learn to dissociate myself from the characters in my book, I am never going to be able to put myself out there and write another one again. Nor am I going to be able to take that criticism that comes with the turf.

    What I understand today is that I need to be happy that I actually put something out there for people to read and comment on. That it may not be perfect, but it is a part of me that I cannot deny. While I have let go of that piece of writing, I need to retain the lessons if I am to ever tell another story in my life. But isn’t that what life is about? The process of learning and unlearning. The ability to hold on to the lessons while learning to let go of the emotion.

    Today, I have grown. As a writer. And hopefully, as a person too.

  • Blogging,  Personal

    For the love of the written word…

    This is a special day. This day, 10 years ago, I began a journey that became one of the most important journeys in my life. What began as a protected blog under the name of “A Space of One’s Own” evolved to what it is today. I’ve blogged under my real name, moved on to a pseudonym, slowed down, written furiously, then slowed down again, and even considered quitting. Yet, this space is something I could never complete let go of.

    The journey that I began ten years ago has been adventurous, exciting, depressing, and difficult at the same time. Yet, I’ve never really felt the need to stop or turn around. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s a need to express things I wouldn’t dare speak about in person. Whatever it is, it’s an important part of not just my life, but a part of my growing up.

    As a 24-year old, I was idealistic, full of zeal. I wanted to change the world and believed that my writing had the power to do so. I wrote furiously, and with a frankness than amazes even me when I re-read those posts a decade hence. I wrote in sheer outrage around what’s happening in the world around me. I wrote, because I didn’t know any other way.

    As time passed, my blog evolved. From speaking of politics and society, of the ills that we face and the injustices of life, it evolved into something more personal. It gradually became a refuge from the world. A place where I could cherish the small things, and speak of things close to my heart. Of art and literature. Of love and life. Of desire and longing.

    Today, ten years older, and slightly more mature, I no longer blog because I’m outraged. I no longer react as spontaneously to news or happenings around me. I watch, I wait. I observe and analyse. And most of the time, I choose not to speak. I don’t speak because I feel I have nothing to contribute that hasn’t already been said a million times over. If I do feel like adding something, the 140 characters usually suffice. I find today, as I look back over my journey, that my blog’s tone and content is actually a reflection of how I have evolved as a person. And I am happy to say that it’s no longer the quantity, but the honesty and the intensity of my writing that’s become important.

    Here’s to the next decade of writing. May this love for the written word never fade!

  • Blogging,  Cinema,  Pointless posts

    On Day 7…

    …it gets more difficult than ever to find something to blog about every day. I have very often let my thoughts flow through words as I type or write, but when it comes to actually publishing on the blog, I suddenly seem to become a lot more cautious.
    In other news, I watched Kalyaana Samayal Saadham today. A breezy entertainer that tackles a serious issue in the most light-hearted manner possible, it touched my heart. Admittedly, it’s not the best movie ever made, but there was something about it that made me relate to it. The setting, the upper middle class Tambrahm society to which we belong, Meera’s rebellious streak…I loved them all. Perhaps I’ll come up with a full-fledged review a bit later.
    That’s all for today. See you tomorrow, hopefully with more things to talk about.

  • Blogging,  Personal,  Pointless posts

    Resurrecting a blog

    This day, seven years ago, I began to put down my words on paper (or screen). As this blog turns 7, I begin to wonder when and why I simply stopped writing. Was it when I ran out of things to say? Or was it when I simply found other means of expressing myself? Was it, as some of my friends say, when I found other things to do with my life and my time? Today is as good a day as any other to reflect on these questions in the hope that discovering answers to them will spur me on to becoming a better and more prolific writer.

    This blog has surely seen better days, with opinions expressed, debates raging on in the comments columns and interaction being a given, rather than a possibility. But somewhere along the way, I lost track. I stopped writing as frequently as I used to and my readers lost patience with me and gave up on my ability to turn out posts worth reading. There was a time when I obsessed about page views, visitor stats and the like. Today, I find that none of these actually matter. It no longer matters to me if someone is reading what I write, although I do appreciate the odd comment that comes my way.

    Much reflection and analysis later, I also discovered that I had stopped writing precisely because this blog was acquiring more and more readers. While it remains a pleasure to know that people are reading and appreciating what I write, I began to get more conscious of my writing when I met people in real life who began to discuss my blog. Ok. Let me get this out! I simply don’t like discussing the contents of my blog in real life. I am fine with interactions through comments and email, but confront me in person on something I have said on my blog and I get uncomfortable. Not that I am a shy person, far from it. But, there seems to be some kind of mental block in mixing my online life with my offline one. I certainly have friends who belong to both worlds, but not everyone makes that crossover as easily. In addition, I often find myself hesitating about posting something on my blog because I am concerned about the reaction of those on Facebook who might come across the post and have something to say. It didn’t help that my blog feeds were automatically synchronised with my Facebook timeline.

    And then, one day, it came to me completely out of the blue. It was now time for me dissociate my personal identity from that of my blog. While this was in no way an attempt to become anonymous, it was an important step in my evolution as a blogger. So, with renewed determination, I set about the task of giving this blog a new identity distinct from that of it’s owner. I created a Facebook page for the Accidental Writer. I stopped the synchronisation of my blog with my FB profile. I decided to take it slowly and publish manual updates rather than allow automated feeds. It already feels better to know that my blogposts will be judged on their merit and not as something written by Amrutha. I don’t know if this experiment will succeed. But, whatever it is, the deed is done.

    Now, the Accidental Writer has been officially resurrected. As they say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. This is the second post in 10 days, which is more than I can claim to have done in the last two years. I am crossing my fingers and hoping this trend continues. And that one day, my readers come back to this blog knowing that it offers them something worth their while. Until then, I will continue to write. Because that’s what I know to do best!

  • Blogging,  Pointless posts

    Writing…

    …is therapeutic. It relieves me of frustrations because you learn to verbalize the frustration. Writing is cathartic and gives me release in a world where I would otherwise watch every word I utter. I began to write fairly late in life, when I realized that I had much to say and no way to make myself heard. One fine day in October, seven years ago, I discovered that there was indeed a way of making myself heard. That is when I began to write. What began as an intimate diary open only to invited readers has today assumed a life of it’s own; an identity that is slowly becoming distinct from my personal one.

    Writing helps me think clearly. Writing makes me a better person.Writing gives me something to do with all the million thoughts that swim around in my head trying to tumble out in the form of words. Sometimes, I succeed in building a coherent stream of thought. At other times, these words remains log-jammed in my head, much like vehicles in a traffic jam trying to get ahead of one another and remaining all stuck in one place.On such days, I wish I could spew out random words just to rid my brain of all the unwanted and pointless thoughts that crowd out precious thinking space in my brain. Sometimes, I just let it be and end up sleeping over it, only to wake up with a head full of random dreams that I can make no sense of.

    This reminds me of the free writing exercise we used to do in English class in college. Mrs. Jasper used to ask us to write whatever came to our mind, unmindful of grammar and syntax, spelling and coherence for a certain duration. Sometimes, this was as short as a minute and sometimes as long as ten. This exercise unfailingly lightened the burden on my mind. Every single time. I still do it on a sheet of paper when my mind is full of things. On that note, this also reminds me that I have stopped writing. I don’t know why or in what circumstances I actually stopped putting my words to paper (or screen), but I do know that it is roughly around this time that I actually started changing as a person; and not necessarily for the better.

    A good friend, over a casual chat over 2 years ago pointed out: “Amrutha, your mind is so full of things. Just give it some rest, will you?” I shrugged off his comment and didn’t give much thought to it then. Now, I wonder if he was right. I wonder if I should just give my mind some rest and take it easy. And I also wonder if beginning to write again will help me accomplish that. I do not know. I can only hope to find out one day!