Writing is a lonely job. In fact, loneliness is a prerequisite of sorts, isn’t it? At least for me, it is. Unless I am alone in my own quiet space, I find it difficult to write. Actually, loneliness is not the right word because it has a negative slant to it. The word “emptiness” describes it better…a kind of vacant feeling which takes away the clutter and noise of the outside world. The mind is opened up to all sorts of possibilities. It’s vacant. It’s as if one is in an alternate universe where anything is possible and nothing is impossible.
Those who can get into their writing mind-space in a noisy, busy environment are lucky or I should say that they are super motivated. These are people who write anywhere and at anytime. They are super-productive and write novel after novel after novel…makes me feel so useless.
I’ve written a lot – and I mean a LOT – in my life but just one novel, that too after struggling with it for a few years. And now I am in the midst of my second one but it hasn't gone as fast as it should have. The only satisfaction I have is that I wrote a damn good novel. I am proud of The Hawa Mahal Murders. There's nothing I want to change in it. In fact, if anything, I fear I may not be able to write a novel as good as my first one.
I always believed that I was pretty self-motivated…after all, going at a novel for years without knowing whether a publisher will pick it up…that requires at least a little self-motivation. But perhaps I am not sufficiently motivated. I wasn’t able to get into the right frame of mind in these covid times. I don’t want to get into the mundane details of it…but suffice to say that the time has now passed and I’m getting back on track.
I always thought not writing = not working and time wasted. I don’t put that kind of pressure on myself anymore. I write because I love it and I because I know I want to write another damn good novel!(Image by LEEROY Agency from Pixabay)