Some people have asked me about the process of writing a novel. Is it fun? It is exciting? Is it frustrating? Is it depressing?
I admit that a few of these ‘people’ are not real people. They are figments of my imagination, created by and residing in the nether regions of my increasingly schizophrenic mind. Nevertheless, I will answer the question, to satisfy myself, even if it serves no practical purpose.
My answer is that it is fun, exciting, frustrating and depressing. The thing is that I love to write. I wrote my first short story when I was ten years old. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night with a desperate craving to write. Tonight is one such night.
However, writing an article or a blog or a short story is all very well. I can get the whole thing done in an hour or two. Writing a full-length novel is an altogether different ball game. I can say, with conviction, that writing a novel is the hardest thing I have ever attempted to do so far in my life. By the same token, I believe it is also the most ambitious.
The task requires a tremendous amount of patience and self-discipline. I have to stick with my plot day-after-day even when it is the least interesting thing in the world to me. The work of a novel continues for an extended period of time, sometimes for more than a year. Initially, any story idea seems thrilling. But, after a few chapters, the initial excitement fades and I have to fight to keep my story alive. Almost every writer experiences the same thing. Believe me, I’ve read tons of interviews and biographies of published authors. Sometime midway through the story, all writers get another ‘better’ idea and are tempted to quit the current, lackluster project and move to the new one. But that is the kiss of death for a novelist. It is the duty and responsibility of the author to give the current story a chance to run its course.
As a novel writer, I have to make endless decisions daily. I have to conjure up plots and subplots, character arcs and scene transitions. I have to concern myself with dialogue tags, sentence structure, paragraph length, repeated words. Most importantly, I have to get my bum in the chair every day to write. This is easier said than done.
Many people believe that for a writer, or for any other artist, producing their work is all a matter of inspiration. What a misconception that is. Inspiration comes to those who put in blood, sweat and tears.
There are some days when I do feel truly inspired. The blood rushes through my veins and the words flow onto the page like running water from an open tap. The characters begin to make choices and take actions that surprise and delight me. This is when I take a step back from the keyboard and shake myself with glee. ‘Wow. It’s alive. It’s alive’ I tell myself.
But such days are rare. They arrive as often as sunny days in Seattle during the month of December. On most days, I come to the blank page and have no idea what to write. My mind is swarming with all the different plots and subplots, the various locations for the action, the motivations of the characters, the links between the scenes, and so on. It is a labyrinth of formidable proportions that I have to grapple with. The cursor on my Word document blinks at me incessantly. ‘Write something. Write something’ it seems to taunt me. But I don’t know what happens next in the story. I don’t know how to resolve the subplot. I don’t know how or where this action will take place. I don’t know how to smoothly move to the next scene. I don’t know anything. I tear my hair in frustration. I can never do this. I can’t be a writer. Who was I kidding?
I have a couple of whiskey shots and wait for the feeling to pass. The difference between a real novelist and a wannabe is that a novelist finishes the manuscript. So, the next day, I go at it again. Word-by-word, I inch forward towards the finish line.
Sometimes, I get a vision. I am at Crosswords bookstore, a favorite hang-out of mine while growing up. It is my book signing event. I sit on a large table and there is a big banner behind me. In front of me, there is a line of people waiting to get my autograph on their copy of my latest novel.
The shrill sound of my alarm clock blurs the vision. My dream felt so real. It is a recurring dream that refuses to leave me. I log into my laptop and the cursor on the empty page blinks insistently. I rub my eyes, crack my knuckles and hit the keyboard. This is my reality. That was my dream. I close my eyes and I am at Crosswords again, signing books. I open them and the page before me is blank.
I know my goal, my destination. But, I don’t have the faintest clue how to get there, when I’ll get there, or even if I’ll ever get there. I don’t have a roadmap. I don’t have a compass. Still, I keep walking down that road, one step at a time. I may make a few wrong turns along the way, but I believe in my heart that if I stay the course long enough, I will reach the destination.
I fight a long, lonely battle, but the journey is magical. Every stage is to be savored. The race is long and in the end it is only with myself.
What's in a name?
“The circuit has three resistors in series and two in parallel…”
Mrs. Kulkarni, the Electronics teacher, lectured in a dull monotone. The classroom was a large one. The students of the last five or six rows were busy writing the Networks assignment that was due later that day. A group of girls occupying the middle benches were engaged in idle gossip. The students in the first two rows appeared somewhat attentive. Mrs. Kulkarni went on reciting the subject matter, seemingly oblivious of what the students in her class were doing.
As is the norm in most engineering colleges in Mumbai, one misguided student had actually written the Networks assignment himself. The rest of the class would then process to mindlessly copy it word-for-word. Seated in the middle of the third last row, Marvin was eager to get his hands on a copy of the assignment. Having just made the transition from diploma to second year engineering, he was halfway through his first month at Thadomal Shahani Engineering College. Before walking into class that day, he was not even aware that there was a Networks assignment due, let alone what the questions were for that assignment. The student behind him had just about completed writing. Marvin borrowed a ball pen and some blank assignment sheets from another student. Taking a copy of the assignment from behind, he began writing rapidly. The assignment was ten pages long.
“Stop writing assignments in my class,” Mrs. Kulkarni bellowed from the front of the class.
Marvin was nearing the end of the second page. So engrossed was he in writing that he took no notice of the teacher.
“You. Stand up!” The teacher’s voice was even louder now.
Now, Marvin looked up and found her staring directly at him. Putting the pen down, he stood up obediently.
“Get out of my class.”
“Why, Ma’am?” Marvin asked innocently.
“What do you mean why? You are not paying attention. Shamelessly writing some assignments in class. Not even looking up when I am talking to you.”
“But Ma’am, everybody here is writing assignments,” Marvin protested.
“Just get out.”
Marvin argued with her for a couple of minutes. He was not used to being kicked out of class. At least, not yet. It was only his first month there.
Finally Mrs. Kulkarni said, “Get out. Write a letter apologizing for your behavior and then request permission to come back in.” and dismissed him.
Picking up his bag, Marvin left the classroom. He found a bench nearby and sat down. He checked the contents of his bag: MP3 player, cell phone charger, motorcycle helmet and gloves. There was no sign of any pen or paper.
“Hey Dude, Can you give me a pen?” Marvin called out to a student passing by.
“Sure.”
“Also, do you have some paper?” Marvin added sheepishly.
“Anything else?” the student asked mockingly as he handed Marvin a pen and some paper.
Marvin smiled and shook his head. He settled on the bench to write the apology letter.
“12th August, 2001.” He wrote on top of the page.
“Dear Mrs.….”
A moment passed. And then another. The realization dawned upon him slowly but surely. He had absolutely no idea who the teacher in there was.
C’mon man, think. You have to know the name of the Electronics teacher, Marvin admonished himself. But, his mind was drawing a blank.
‘Mrs. Shetty? No….Mrs. Sharma? That can’t be….Damn it! What is her name?’
“Dear Mrs. Madhuri,” Marvin wrote decisively after a few minutes of deliberation.
Now, God alone knows why he chose the name Madhuri. Maybe it was a process of elimination. Maybe he was a fan of Madhuri Dixit, the actress. Maybe he simply picked a random name. After all, what’s in a name?
Scribbling a brief apology, he hurried back to the classroom. He entered quietly and handed Mrs. Kulkarni the letter. She read it quickly and looked at him. She looked down at the letter and then looked at Marvin again.
“Who is this Madhuri?”
“Huh?”
Think of something man, Marvin said to himself.
“Who is Madhuri?” the teacher asked again.
“Err….umm…”
Say something. Just say anything now, Marvin thought.
“Ma’am, you are only Madhuri,” He blurted out finally.
“What??” Mrs. Kulkarni was dumbfounded by this response.
The rest of students looked on with puzzled expressions. Then, realizing what he had said, they burst into laughter.
“Shut up, everyone!” Mrs. Kulkarni yelled.
She glared at Marvin.
What does he think of himself, she thought. First, he writes assignments in class without so much as looking up and now this. And who the hell is this Madhuri? Is it some girl from the class?
“Come with me to the Head of Department,” she said, reaching a decision.
Mr. Shinde, the head of the Electronics department, was about to start his lunch, when Mrs. Kulkarni walked into his office with Marvin. After listening to her story, he had a bemused expression on his face.
“Who is Madhuri?” he asked Marvin.
Meanwhile, Marvin had still not come up with a satisfactory answer to this question. He looked towards Mrs. Kulkarni.
“Ma’am is only Madhuri….”
Mr. Shinde looked as if he was not sure whether to laugh or to reprimand Marvin.
“This is Mrs. Smitha Kulkarni, your Electronics teacher for the third semester,” he said, barely able to conceal a grin.
“Now, will you write a proper apology letter addressed to her?”
Marvin nodded, relieved to be let off the hook so lightly. The meeting was over, and Marvin got the hell out of there.
Mrs. Kulkarni, the Electronics teacher, lectured in a dull monotone. The classroom was a large one. The students of the last five or six rows were busy writing the Networks assignment that was due later that day. A group of girls occupying the middle benches were engaged in idle gossip. The students in the first two rows appeared somewhat attentive. Mrs. Kulkarni went on reciting the subject matter, seemingly oblivious of what the students in her class were doing.
As is the norm in most engineering colleges in Mumbai, one misguided student had actually written the Networks assignment himself. The rest of the class would then process to mindlessly copy it word-for-word. Seated in the middle of the third last row, Marvin was eager to get his hands on a copy of the assignment. Having just made the transition from diploma to second year engineering, he was halfway through his first month at Thadomal Shahani Engineering College. Before walking into class that day, he was not even aware that there was a Networks assignment due, let alone what the questions were for that assignment. The student behind him had just about completed writing. Marvin borrowed a ball pen and some blank assignment sheets from another student. Taking a copy of the assignment from behind, he began writing rapidly. The assignment was ten pages long.
“Stop writing assignments in my class,” Mrs. Kulkarni bellowed from the front of the class.
Marvin was nearing the end of the second page. So engrossed was he in writing that he took no notice of the teacher.
“You. Stand up!” The teacher’s voice was even louder now.
Now, Marvin looked up and found her staring directly at him. Putting the pen down, he stood up obediently.
“Get out of my class.”
“Why, Ma’am?” Marvin asked innocently.
“What do you mean why? You are not paying attention. Shamelessly writing some assignments in class. Not even looking up when I am talking to you.”
“But Ma’am, everybody here is writing assignments,” Marvin protested.
“Just get out.”
Marvin argued with her for a couple of minutes. He was not used to being kicked out of class. At least, not yet. It was only his first month there.
Finally Mrs. Kulkarni said, “Get out. Write a letter apologizing for your behavior and then request permission to come back in.” and dismissed him.
Picking up his bag, Marvin left the classroom. He found a bench nearby and sat down. He checked the contents of his bag: MP3 player, cell phone charger, motorcycle helmet and gloves. There was no sign of any pen or paper.
“Hey Dude, Can you give me a pen?” Marvin called out to a student passing by.
“Sure.”
“Also, do you have some paper?” Marvin added sheepishly.
“Anything else?” the student asked mockingly as he handed Marvin a pen and some paper.
Marvin smiled and shook his head. He settled on the bench to write the apology letter.
“12th August, 2001.” He wrote on top of the page.
“Dear Mrs.….”
A moment passed. And then another. The realization dawned upon him slowly but surely. He had absolutely no idea who the teacher in there was.
C’mon man, think. You have to know the name of the Electronics teacher, Marvin admonished himself. But, his mind was drawing a blank.
‘Mrs. Shetty? No….Mrs. Sharma? That can’t be….Damn it! What is her name?’
“Dear Mrs. Madhuri,” Marvin wrote decisively after a few minutes of deliberation.
Now, God alone knows why he chose the name Madhuri. Maybe it was a process of elimination. Maybe he was a fan of Madhuri Dixit, the actress. Maybe he simply picked a random name. After all, what’s in a name?
Scribbling a brief apology, he hurried back to the classroom. He entered quietly and handed Mrs. Kulkarni the letter. She read it quickly and looked at him. She looked down at the letter and then looked at Marvin again.
“Who is this Madhuri?”
“Huh?”
Think of something man, Marvin said to himself.
“Who is Madhuri?” the teacher asked again.
“Err….umm…”
Say something. Just say anything now, Marvin thought.
“Ma’am, you are only Madhuri,” He blurted out finally.
“What??” Mrs. Kulkarni was dumbfounded by this response.
The rest of students looked on with puzzled expressions. Then, realizing what he had said, they burst into laughter.
“Shut up, everyone!” Mrs. Kulkarni yelled.
She glared at Marvin.
What does he think of himself, she thought. First, he writes assignments in class without so much as looking up and now this. And who the hell is this Madhuri? Is it some girl from the class?
“Come with me to the Head of Department,” she said, reaching a decision.
Mr. Shinde, the head of the Electronics department, was about to start his lunch, when Mrs. Kulkarni walked into his office with Marvin. After listening to her story, he had a bemused expression on his face.
“Who is Madhuri?” he asked Marvin.
Meanwhile, Marvin had still not come up with a satisfactory answer to this question. He looked towards Mrs. Kulkarni.
“Ma’am is only Madhuri….”
Mr. Shinde looked as if he was not sure whether to laugh or to reprimand Marvin.
“This is Mrs. Smitha Kulkarni, your Electronics teacher for the third semester,” he said, barely able to conceal a grin.
“Now, will you write a proper apology letter addressed to her?”
Marvin nodded, relieved to be let off the hook so lightly. The meeting was over, and Marvin got the hell out of there.
The Glorious Uncertainties
Will she say yes to me? Will I get that job offer? Will I get admission into that college? Will I be able close the deal with those clients? Will I perform well on stage tonight?
It is thoughts such as these that trouble our minds and make us unhappy. Why do we torture ourselves in this manner? What makes these thoughts pervade our minds day in and day out? It is the same reason that people turn to Astrology, Numerology, Palmistry, Tarot Cards, etc to tell them their future. It is the Uncertainty. People have never been able to live with the uncertainty of not knowing what will happen to them. Hence we expend all our energy worrying about the future rather than living in the moment. Our inability to come to terms with this uncertainty makes us suffer.
To deal with the uncertainty, we must first learn to give up the one thing we never had and never will have i.e. Control. We cannot control what will happen in our lives and in the lives of others around us. She may like me or she may not. I may get the job offer or I may not. We must accept that we cannot know how things will turn out. This is the first true realization i.e. not knowing. Once this simple truth dawns upon us then we will have taken the first step towards becoming comfortable with uncertainty.
Consider this situation. What if you were told by a reliable source (say your God), without any room for doubt, about everything that will happen in your future? Say, that you could know all the complete and accurate details about every single day of the rest of your life. Would you like to know this? The first instinct of most people would be Yes, we would like to know. Then we would never have to worry again and our minds would be at peace. But, think about it again. Would you really want to know? If you knew every single thing that is to happen on every single day, then would there be any joy in living that life? If you already knew everything, then you would be reduced to a spectator in your own life. It would be like watching a movie when you know exactly what will happen in every scene. Do you enjoy watching such a movie? Or would you rather watch a movie where it is full of unpredictable twists and turns and you don't where it is heading next?
Thinking about this, we can see that uncertainty is not only inevitable but is also a good thing. Without uncertainty, our lives would be dull and devoid of joy. It is the uncertainties that bring us happiness. If I always knew that she would say yes to me, then, I wouldn't have bought her flowers, hired musicians and gone to all that trouble to win her affections. But, would I be that happy if I already knew how things would turn out and didn't have to bother to do all those things? Probably not. If I knew for certain that I was going to get the job, then I wouldn't have spent time making my resume, preparing for the interview, getting a new suit, etc. Again, if I didn't do all those things with the knowledge that I was to get the job, would the offer give me much joy? Again, it would not. It is the journey that brings us happiness and not the destination. These journeys would not exist without the uncertainty.
We must accept the uncertainties of our lives as they are. We should learn to start liking the uncertainty. Savor the journey and banish from the mind all thoughts of the outcome. We must live in the here and the now and enjoy the moment. If we can do this, we will find that most of our troubles cease to be troubles anymore.
It is thoughts such as these that trouble our minds and make us unhappy. Why do we torture ourselves in this manner? What makes these thoughts pervade our minds day in and day out? It is the same reason that people turn to Astrology, Numerology, Palmistry, Tarot Cards, etc to tell them their future. It is the Uncertainty. People have never been able to live with the uncertainty of not knowing what will happen to them. Hence we expend all our energy worrying about the future rather than living in the moment. Our inability to come to terms with this uncertainty makes us suffer.
To deal with the uncertainty, we must first learn to give up the one thing we never had and never will have i.e. Control. We cannot control what will happen in our lives and in the lives of others around us. She may like me or she may not. I may get the job offer or I may not. We must accept that we cannot know how things will turn out. This is the first true realization i.e. not knowing. Once this simple truth dawns upon us then we will have taken the first step towards becoming comfortable with uncertainty.
Consider this situation. What if you were told by a reliable source (say your God), without any room for doubt, about everything that will happen in your future? Say, that you could know all the complete and accurate details about every single day of the rest of your life. Would you like to know this? The first instinct of most people would be Yes, we would like to know. Then we would never have to worry again and our minds would be at peace. But, think about it again. Would you really want to know? If you knew every single thing that is to happen on every single day, then would there be any joy in living that life? If you already knew everything, then you would be reduced to a spectator in your own life. It would be like watching a movie when you know exactly what will happen in every scene. Do you enjoy watching such a movie? Or would you rather watch a movie where it is full of unpredictable twists and turns and you don't where it is heading next?
Thinking about this, we can see that uncertainty is not only inevitable but is also a good thing. Without uncertainty, our lives would be dull and devoid of joy. It is the uncertainties that bring us happiness. If I always knew that she would say yes to me, then, I wouldn't have bought her flowers, hired musicians and gone to all that trouble to win her affections. But, would I be that happy if I already knew how things would turn out and didn't have to bother to do all those things? Probably not. If I knew for certain that I was going to get the job, then I wouldn't have spent time making my resume, preparing for the interview, getting a new suit, etc. Again, if I didn't do all those things with the knowledge that I was to get the job, would the offer give me much joy? Again, it would not. It is the journey that brings us happiness and not the destination. These journeys would not exist without the uncertainty.
We must accept the uncertainties of our lives as they are. We should learn to start liking the uncertainty. Savor the journey and banish from the mind all thoughts of the outcome. We must live in the here and the now and enjoy the moment. If we can do this, we will find that most of our troubles cease to be troubles anymore.
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