The other day, my husband asked me why I had stopped penning my thoughts. He has been asking this question on and off for the past couple of years or so. But this time he meant business. “Why have you stopped writing ? You were a much happier person when you wrote regularly. “ I know this is true – I actually WAS much happier when I wrote ( or rather vented ) regularly. I still can’t bring myself to say “writer” . Isn’t the whole world and it’s cousin, a “writer” nowadays?
So, let me a bit methodical and do a meticulous dissection of this beast in front of me. What are the reasons? Several come up, one by one.
The long and tiresome publishing process of my book wrung me out a bit and well, drained the creative juices out of me.
I just wasn’t comfortable promoting the book . Once my husband forwarded it’s promotional link to a friend twice in a day by mistake…and I squirmed! I guess I just don’t have it in me- the quality of self promotion. The whole process felt completely out of sync with my inherent make-up and when we do something that’s out of character, the “happy” cells inside us freeze a bit. Don’t they?
We moved homes around that same time. I shifted the computer to the master bedroom, where we also have the television, and the general bonhomie happens in that room only. The result of this is that there is considerably lesser “me” time and “silent” time with the computer. If you strive to be a conscientious parent, you have to be prepared to make some sacrifices, right?
Then, we moved cities, rather, states. The whole procedure of packing, travelling, heaving yourself and the household to another place thousands of miles away, trying to settle down once again in a new place, is easier said than done-to put it VERY mildly. But that is now a part and parcel of one’s life in the armed forces.
When you don’t do something regularly, your natural flare for that thing takes a backseat. Inhibitions creep in. The need for setting boundaries appears out of nowhere. You think, “I want to write a short story about a woman in a bad marriage” or “ a coming of age poem about a person” and so on. But you also want to hang a banner that says ,“ Disclaimer – This is NOT about me or my life ! “ Every person who writes, makes herself vulnerable to the readers. Readers, who may think that the writer has lifted from her own life. Whereas, the writer could be writing about her neighbour’s neighbour! I didn’t have this hesitation earlier. It appeared . And now thankfully, it is on it’s way out.
So, I hope to start “Venting “again. And hope to start writing about the various people that I see around. Their joys, travails, passions. Heck, I will write like I used to and want to. Soon.
©Sapna 6th Mar ’20