Alive

The muse has been visiting often these days. Writing wise I am on a new high. I wish I had the guts to share my fiction on this blog. 


I am not a blogger who aspires to write. Or a girl with a blog who has a huge fan base that convinces her to write a book. Because, she is good enough.


I am a yet to be published writer who blogs. 


I don't need people to tell me to write. 


I write. It's something I did ever since I was twelve. It started with school essays that were read out in class. Then came poetry. 

                            "Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason."

                                                 Novalis

I started creating fictional people much before I started penning down my words. When I was in Kindergarden I invented a fictional sister. My class teacher asked my parents about her. They denied having another offspring. 


Even when I was in 2nd standard I had told one of my classmates about a sister who had been away for a long time and who had suddenly come back home. I kept on this act for months, regaling the antics of my long-lost sister. Her disappearance was as sudden as her arrival. 


(She appeared again in Jan 1999, but that is another story) 


Writing was my anchor. The only thing I thought I was good at. ( By now I know what else I am good at) It pulled  me through tough times. 


I write when I have to. When pen and paper pulls me. ( The memo feature in my phone comes in handy when pens are not available.)


These days I am more disciplined. I am on a deadline, you see. Self created. 


If I close my eyes and imagine my life without writing, I get a sinking feeling. If for some reason I have to stop writing I may survive, I will not live. 


This is why I write. This is why I am.