Not all writers are born, some are created.
Private musings of a self-proclaimed writer
-Geetika Saini
I never accepted that I could be a writer.
In fact, on some days I still cannot believe that I am finally writing something, if not a book. What’s stopping me from writing a book, you ask? I am not writing one because I don’t know what book to write.
Yes, you read it right, not all of us are born weaving stories right from the womb; in fact, my interest in writing blossomed rather late, and now I am on the fence about my content — unsure if I should write about a person or a thing, or should my book be a work of fiction or non-fiction? There is too much to decide on a preliminary level before actually commencing work on the first draft. Hence, the wait.
It is okay though, the thought does not make me fret as I am aware that the concept will come to me when I am ready. I know for a fact that the ideas won’t elude me when the time be and that is enough validation for now.
Up until January 2021, I had negated and neglected every thought that made me feel like that I could be a writer. Back in December, if you had told me that I would be writing for leisure one day, let alone writing for my blog, I would have probably laughed in your face. But, look how the tables have turned. Now, not only do I write because I want to, but I write also because it is one of my most favourite things to do.
Besides reading, writing is the one thing that helps me to relax; the entire act of being able to articulate those random thoughts into words and putting them all onto paper helps me to refresh my mind. An impromptu writing session at the end of the day is the solitary thing that gives me an opportunity to spend some quality time with myself while exercising my brain.
Everyday, I look forward to that part of the evening when I can finally sit down at peace and get some writing done; however, it has been sporadic lately. Due to a deluge of work and working hours, I have been unable to make time for my personal writing stints and it is often exasperating. This irks me because I am new to the approach — why do we always have to compromise on our personal quotas to attain those job imperatives? I want more time for myself. But that’s an unfair argument, it was I who wanted to get ‘really busy’, although part of my wish was to get busy in the world of books and publishing which still remains unfulfilled.
Nonetheless, the whining is perpetual and there is no way it can undermine the importance this work exposure holds for me; after all, had it not been for this job, I would still have those qualms about my faculties. So, yes, this might not tickle my fancy right now, but I am glad to have started somewhere. Perhaps I will eventually slip into the familiar groove, or find something that suits my routine instead.
In any case, I really wish and dearly hope that I can find some respite from the daily humdrum to unwind in a way that I find relaxing everyday, without having to lead a perfunctory 6-month spell because writing is my true passion and in the process of discovering it, I am just getting started. I shall strive regardless of the peeves, not because I am obligated to it but because I truly want to do it. Ultimately, heartsease is all that matters, and the joy that I derive from writing is unparalleled. So irrespective of how long it takes, I know that I will come along.
