Guest post: Four commandments of narrative

sharath-cropped-2Since last year, I’ve been interacting with author Sharath Komarraju who has become a guide and a friend over Google chat. He furiously pens down books and blogs on writing, mythology as well as money. Here’s his fab post on narrative. Take his advice, he’s good.


Fiction is made of two kinds of writing: narrative and dialogue. That is the most simple classification one could make; some would say narrative is different from description which is different from exposition and so on, but for me that ís splitting hairs. There is the stuff with speech, and there is the stuff without. Easy. In this post I am going to tell you some golden rules of writing narrative.

  1. Write in Active Sentences

This is the first leap out of the comfort zone that a writer must take. It sounds redundant to mention that fiction should be full of action, but you will be surprised if you go back and read your work to find how many ‘inactive’ sentences you’ve written. The problem is that in our speech and in other forms of writing, the active voice is not mandatory and is rarely used, so we fall into this cozy world of weak verbs and passive sentences. This is the main reason why writers who begin writing fiction find that their work lacks strength. It is because they do not use the active voice enough.

One thing I always aim to do when I sit down to write a story is to make every sentence I write an active sentence. Every time I am tempted to write something blasphemous like ‘There was a row of trees on both sides of him’, I slap myself on the wrist and change it to ‘A row of trees stood on both sides of him’. Remember, active sentences use strong verbs, and the more of them you use, the more polished your narrative becomes.

  1. Include specific, sensory detail

Sight, sound, smell, touch and taste – these are the five means through which we perceive the world around us. When you go to a flower garden and sit down on a bed of roses, you don’t just feel the softness of the petals on your fingers. You hold it up to your nose and it reminds you of the first time you got tickled by the rose in your mother’s hair when she carried you to bed. The spotless white (or is it red?) for some reason makes you want to prick the ball of your thumbs with a needle and squeeze out a drop of fresh blood just to watch it fall on the petal and dissolve into a baby pink spot. When you snap the stem of the rose in two, it sounds very much like your arm did all those years ago when you got pushed down a flight of stairs.

This kind of detail is the lifeblood of fiction. Your characters are human beings like you, and like you they will sense things wherever they go and whatever they do. With each sensory input they will make associations that will link them to their pasts, and they will make decisions that will influence their futures. This is where as a writer you find your voice, in the details that you notice, in the things you show your readers, in the images you build for them.

This is another skill that can be developed with practice. One thing I like to do is think of an item in terms of senses that we generally don’t associate it with. For instance, can you describe the sound of a petal being plucked from a flower? Or the touch of a jalebi on your hand when you pick it up?

  1. Take care with adjectives and adverbs

With adverbs the rule is simple: do not use them. As a beginning writer, tell yourself not to use adverbs at all in your writing. What this will do is force on you the responsibility of choosing the right verb. Also, what an adverb does is the opposite of what we think it does. We think it will make the meaning clearer and the writing tighter, but in practice it just makes your sentences longer without adding anything of value. The easiest way to make your writing tighter is to run through your first draft and cut out every adverb that you’ve used. (And by adverbs, I mean the words that end in ‘ly’, those things that claim to describe the verb.)

With adjectives it’s hard to be so autocratic, so I won’t say don’t use them at all. But do make your choice wisely. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, opt for the descriptive adjective over the emotive or judgmental one. So words like ’round’, ‘pale’, ‘thin’, ‘stocky’, ‘soft’ and ‘white’ are to be preferred over words like ‘happy’, ‘sad’, ‘good’, ‘selfish’and so on. Any adjective that builds the image youíre trying to plant in your readerís head is good. Any adjective that tells the reader what to think is bad.

  1. Be invisible

I cannot emphasize this enough. As a story-teller, your most basic responsibility is to maintain the fictive dream, to make your reader lose himself in your world. I know the temptation to slip in a wisecrack here or an aphorism there, but by all means, whatever you do and however you do it, resist it. Accept that if you write fiction, you will be in the background most of the time. You’re writing about your characters; let them take center-stage. Focus on their experiences, their wants, their struggles. You’re just a story-teller. Stay out of sight. Don’t worry. Your readers wonít miss you.

If you’re thinking why I’ve not included the much-repeated adage, ‘Show, don’t tell’ here, it is because showing and not telling happens as a consequence of writing well. It’s not a technique by itself. If you follow the above four guidelines in your narrative; if you write sensually, if you write in strong, active sentences, if you write tightly, if you remember to be invisible and allow your story to take the spotlight, you wonít have to worry about showing and not telling. It will happen as if on its own. I guarantee it.


For more from Sharath, check out his site 

My two bits on crime fiction in Asian Age

Recently, a kind guy who loves icecream, called Vishav, contacted me for my point of view on the rise of detective and crime thrillers in the English language space. The result was a really good article collating thoughts of authors like Kishwar Desai who is spearheading the first Crime Writers Festival in Delhi later this month and Juggi Bhasin. While giving the interview, I pondered on many things and had two surprises.

One was a rather straight one, the fact that the paper used a photograph of mine, on the same page as author Anita Nair and Mukul Deva. (Proof of arrival on scene, below. Oo.)

01_07_2013_101_005 (Crime Fiction 1)

01_07_2013_101_005 (Crime Fiction 2)

The second was a more insidious surprise. While giving the interview, I realised that not many Indian English authors had given this masalafied fiction to their readers before. Crime fiction, thrillers, mysteries and murders have always been popular with readers. What can compare to reading a cozy murder mystery with a cup of tea in one hand? So why hadn’t Indian authors explored the genre much before? Mind you, this is true only for Indian English and not for other Indian languages which have so much of what I call the pop-masala genre.

I feel in the last decade, there’s a new level of comfort that the Indian author has in her own style of writing, like wearing chappals and walking on pothole-filled streets in crime fiction. That of being comfortable in their own identity, their own experience, in their own chaotic cities, confused traditions and in their own unique style of crimes as well as crime solving. And this being comfortable and exploring Indianness in novels seems to be happening not only in crime fiction but also across genres in the country – be it high literary, historical fiction or romances.

On the other hand, readers want to read books about things that they experience, in the English that they speak or write, stories that they hear from their grannies and friends. Desi crime fiction, written in desi style with desi detectives as main protagonists.

About a few years ago, because there weren’t any really established thriller writers in Indian English (the other Indian languages have always been doing racy thrillers), readers had to look abroad for their thrill fixes. But now thankfully for both readers and authors, that is fast changing. I love the current range of thrillers, murders and mysteries that I can find as a reader in the market. I think this is bound to increase. No more can booksellers tag all authors under the vague ‘Indian author’ category. Nowadays readers are demanding all sub-genres in Indian english writing and authors are more than happy to provide it.

What do you feel? Comment below!

 

Anantya in Tehelka: ‘My Protagonist Is A Fearless Woman’

#Fearless. #Woman

Many a times, when you write, you don’t really know why you’re writing this particular story and what it is that you want to say or experience through it. It’s instinctive, this desire to write a story. Which is why I was quite surprised to get to know something about me recently.

I’ve been talking to the media and the industry about the upcoming launch of Anantya Tantrist’s first book, Cult of Chaos. So when Tehelka‘s associate editor Sabin, wrote to me to make Anantya part of their cover story on women’s safety in Delhi, I said yes.

Little did I know what I would figure out from that interview. While answering questions, I realised how much I have lived in fear of being molested/raped/kidnapped while growing up in Delhi. I’ve carried this fear on my back, like a corpse, it has slowed me down, stressed me but also given me strength and aggression to live and survive. Which is why I wrote a character like Anantya Tantrist. She’s fearless, she’s aggressive and she can take on anything that comes her way. She chooses to live alone in Delhi and own its nights. In my head, she’s everything I couldn’t be, but would like to be, like Superman is to little boys (and a few big ones).

I wrote Anantya for myself and others like me, to give other women hope and determination. That survival instinct. That you can survive and live #fearless. Thanks Sabin, for helping me realise this.

http://www.tehelka.com/my-protagonist-is-a-fearless-woman-who-doesnt-give-two-hoots-about-what-the-society-thinks/
http://www.tehelka.com/my-protagonist-is-a-fearless-woman-who-doesnt-give-two-hoots-about-what-the-society-thinks/

 

A few excerpts from the interview:


‘My Protagonist Is A Fearless Woman Who Doesn’t Give Two Hoots About What The Society Thinks’

Daring and foul-mouthed Anantya could be anywhere in India but the fact (or, the fiction) that she is roaming around the streets of New Delhi contextualises a conversation with her creator, Shweta Taneja, who grew up in the national capital, when we talk about the broader topic of violence against women.

In the wake of repeated incidents of rape and violence against women, how do you look at women’s safety issues in New Delhi?
I feel two things: a mad sense of anger and a helpless feeling of frustration. Anger because I can’t do anything about the senseless violence I see being perpetrated on women everywhere in the country and not just in New Delhi. On the streets, in offices, in bedrooms, in restaurants, in cars, on public and private transport and at homes — everywhere. Forget Delhi, women don’t feel safe anywhere in this country.

My frustration comes from the fact that every time an incident happens, a molestation or rape, usually of a ­woman, we try and build walls to protect ­ourselves or if we are men, protect our women. We ask the police to be more vigilant, to patrol, to install cctvs, to put fences, to add more guards, more grills, to track with gps, to have checks and policing in place so that women can feel safe. But the sad truth is that building walls will only make the outdoors wilder, segregating gender will only alienate each gender from the other and increase violence. No government, no men, no police, no institution can make it all go away. What can perhaps make a difference is that if you, me, all of us, in spite of the violence, go outdoors, at all times, at all places, fearlessly own the night. Be there, not in groups, not with men, but alone — until it becomes the norm. We need to own the spaces, only then can we be safe.

What is your experience of growing up in the city? Any lingering memories?
Much to the chagrin of my parents, growing up, I loved to be out on the roads of Delhi rather than stay at home. A love I share with Anantya. There’s a sense of freedom to be able to walk (not ride in closed spaces like cars), take a deep breath, smell the city. But I have always felt a sense of insecurity, a sense of alertness when I walk on the streets. I have grown aggressive because of collated bad experiences for years — creepy touches, bottom pinches, side leers, breast stares and squeezes. I have experienced it all because I refused to get off the road or the public spaces. I refused to huddle within groups. But yes, Delhi has converted me into a hedgehog. When I am walking, I don’t smile at a stranger, I am wary and vigilant. That’s a bit unfortunate.

Why do you write? And why Cult of Chaos?
I write because I itch to tell stories. When I am not writing, I am making up stories and orally telling them to my friends. I want to explore the idea of otherness, of strangeness, of non-humans, paranormals and supernaturals through these stories, which is why I am writing in the fantasy genre. I want to explore ‘us’ versus ‘them’ in all their manifestations.

I wrote Cult of Chaos because I was itching to write a work of detective ­fiction that mixes Indian folklore and supernatural creatures into a mystery. Anantya Tantrist happened because I was so bored of all the action taken up by male superheroes and superstars while women sat on the side, as pretty eye-candy. I wanted a story in which a woman gets her hands dirty, has all the adventures, kicks the villains and goes to a bar later to celebrate. And Cult of Chaos is all that and more!

Can you take us through the experience of writing this book?
Anantya’s story has been an emotional journey for me. I was creating a female character who is fearless, independent, who just doesn’t give two hoots about what the society thinks, who isn’t dependent on a man. I had to change so many scenes constantly because they were written keeping in mind the ‘limitations’ a woman would have in our society. But Anantya doesn’t adhere to those limitations. I wanted to create a character who will step out of all the gender ideas we have as a society, which is why I rewrote and rewrote, overcoming my limitations as a writer and as a product of our society. And I am amazed at who she has turned out to be. I respect her, am in awe of her, and even have a crush on her.

I sit in my study all day and write while she is out on the streets, taking on powerful people, protecting the helpless, solving violent crimes, also having supernatural adventures of all kinds. She is exposed, while I live a protected life. She is all action while I am all thinking. But just the fact that I have been lucky enough to write her story has changed me too, given me wings. I want to be more like her. I want to own the streets too, fearlessly.

—-

#fearless

Guest blog: The Study of Nirmal Verma

It’s a lucky day for me! Just a few weeks ago, well-known author Zac O’Yeah, who has been kind to me without any reason really, agreed to send me a guest blog for my  Creative chat series.

As a young Swedish writer in the mid-1990s, Zac visited India and met one of the stalwarts of Hindi literature Nirmal Verma at a Sahitya Akademi function. Upon introducing himself as a fan, he got invited by the author to his home, where they conversed for an hour or so. Here he recounts how that meeting left a lasting impression on him.

Zac O’Yeah’s latest novel is Mr. Majestic: The Tout of Bengaluru (Amazon // Flipkart). More on www.zacoyeah.com.  


‘Write what you see but what you see may not be right,’ it says on the first page of the boy’s diary, words written by his mother who died years ago. Now he is thirteen and ill with a persistent fever, and is sent from Allahabad to Delhi to recover.

He stays with his cousin, Bitty. Some twenty years old, she lives in a barsati in Nizamuddin, on a rooftop behind the dargah, and is busy with daily rehearsals of a Strindberg play. As the boy’s fever recedes, he studies Bitty and her upper middle-class friends: a couple of them foreign-returned, from Oxford, and from London, to an India of the 1970s; another is an idealistic university drop-out who, during a stint in Bihar, has seen genuine poverty and violence but didn’t last it out, and so came back to his parental home, a Lutyens bungalow in central New Delhi, where he directs plays on the sprawling lawns. While out there is a world of real tragedies and deaths, here they are cocooned in their interpretations of foreign playwrights, each with his or her own sadness hidden underneath the everyday mask.

WRITER Nirmal Verma PHOTO ZAC OYEAH
A quiet moment in his study where Zac interacted with him

Despite their pursuit of freedom and creative lifestyles, ostensibly go-getting attitudes and artistic endeavours, they radiate insecurity, self-doubt, angst and despair – perhaps, the reader speculates, over being caught between cultures. The boy, however, can’t always make sense of his observations: he sees everything so acutely that it is often painful to read the descriptions of the theatrewallahs who, while partying on Bitty’s rooftop, exert influences on each other via invisible social and mental laws akin to how gravity determines the mechanical movements of planets. ‘At late night parties there always comes a moment when nobody seems aware of what is happening within or about him: the world at large sinks out of sight in the glittering stream of words. Voices swell through the air but what remains behind is the ubiquitous grey silt.’ Continue reading “Guest blog: The Study of Nirmal Verma”

How the kind Appupen drew Anantya’s cover

CoC cover - final

 

This was just sent by Harper Collins team. It’s the cover of Anantya Tantrist’s first adventure in book format and I feel butterflies the size of dinosaurs in somewhere in the deep dark pits of my being. So I wanted to distract myself by telling you all a story. (For that’s what stories are for, no?) This one is the story of an incredible artist and his various kindnesses.

On a lazy Sunday a year ago, I headed to Leaping Windows (now unfortunately closed) with a twinkle in my eye. Two weeks before that, I had just finished reading one of the most amazing graphic novels in recent times, Moonward. I had stolen it from Jerry, who runs The Jam Hut in Hennur. My husband’s a drummer and I accompany him with a book sometimes. Much to my delight, that sunny day, I found a signed Moonward in Jerry’s little library. In it, I discovered the wise dragonfly I had first seen in the old Mojo’s pub off Residency Road.

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Mojo’s was the pub I headed to in my first weekend in Bangalore. The only thing I remember of old Mojo’s with fondness (an otherwise seedy bar where you have to rub your eyes to see, get soggy popcorns and the loos always smelled of pee) were the frescoes done by Appupen aka George Mathen. His lovely frescoes, especially the artwork above, were the first thing that had made me feel part of the city I call my own now, Bangalore. ‘It’s the same artist,’ I exclaimed, touching the old, wise dragonfly guy.

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Moonward turned out to be a similar journey of a creature in a fantasy world called Halahala, both marvellously witty and socially sharp. I hogged it in a day, delighted, thrilled and left with an unfinished feeling. So I went online looking for its creator and a copy for myself. After I hounded him over Facebook, George agreed to meet me to sign a copy of his works.

So the Sunday mentioned above happened. As I marvelled the frescoes George had  created at the little café in Indianagar, he  walked in, a kind fellow with a sparkle in his eye and a self-deprecating smile. He signed two copies of his Moonward  and Legends Of Halahala (one for me, one as a wedding gift for pals Thej and Anju) and then spend a whole hour with me, telling me tales of literary festivals, how he draws the spectacular graphic novels (by getting a bit high on mutton and other stuff) and how much he loves playing the drums (he was part of the popular Bangalore-based band Lounge Piranha). I heard his tales, full of wisdom and wit and laughed and giggled. A cup of coffee later, I realized it was more than an hour that we’d been chatting, that I had poured onto him ALL my hopes and fears  about publishing Anantya Tantrist‘s first book. Secretly, I so wanted him to draw her out but how does one ask such a favour from such a big artist? So I didn’t. I left instead because I had stranded a dear pregnant friend, forgotten all about her, while I was there, chatting with George. But being evil is worth it sometimes.

A few months happened and Harper Collins after a long haul said yes to publishing Anantya’s series. I was superbly happy. When my editor asked me who should do the cover, I knew, I knew I had to ask George then. So I did and crossed my fingers, because HC couldn’t pay that much to an artist like him!

But George, though he might say a vigourous no to being labeled with the the term, is super-kind. So he agreed to draw Anantya’s face, to recreate her as a goddess, as Kali. The result was completely different from what I had imagined and the brief I had doled out (and I am so thankful for that!). When I was writing Anantya Tantrist‘s book, I imagined her face and body and expressions in many, many ways. But it was never, ever like this. I was surprised, gutted, shocked when I saw Anantya drawn like this. And that’s the magic of George’s pen. His paintbrush slashed perceptions and prejudices and went to the very core, cutting Anantya to the bone. She would like that.

My heart is still beating, because I love it so much and can’t wait for reactions to Cult of Chaos, Anantya’s upcoming book in December. I am lucky to have found such kind people in the city I belong to now. Thanks, George, for your kindness to a stranger.

Connect with Appupen online on Facebook. George’s older art can be found on his personal Facebook page, here, here and even here. I highly recommend his latest graphic novel, Aspyrus  (Amazon // Flipkart) which is a fascinating exploration of silent comic.  

Guest post: A tryst with author RK Narayan

I have always had a soft corner for stories real, or make believe. So after much pondering over and ideating, I announce the launch of Creative Chat series for my website, where I will share experiences of authors meeting other authors, artists, storytellers and creative people. I am SO excited to present author Aditi De’s experience of meeting the stalwart of Indian English writing, RK Narayan in the late 80s to begin my series with (thanks for allowing me to use this, Aditi!).

Aditi De is an author- editor- photographer- traveller- blogger based in Bangalore. Her 11 solo books for adults and children include gems like Multiple City: Multiple City: Writings on Bangalore (2008) and A Twist in the Tale: More Indian Folktales (Puffin India, 2005), Articulations: Voices from Contemporary Indian Visual Art (Rupa, 2004), The Secret of the Rainbow Phoenix (Scholastic, 2013). Find her online on her blog or order her books on Flipkart. Here’s her interview with Mr Narayan.

NARAYANrecliningIndia1980s
Taken somewhere in the 1980s

It was in September 1988 that I had my only face-to-face encounter with Narayan. He was staying at his granddaughter’s residence in Chennai’s Thyagaraja Nagar area, where a room had been made comfortable enough for him to write in whenever he felt the urge.

On a memorable occasion, he was persuaded to take time off to autograph copies of his latest book, A Writer’s Nightmare, at the Landmark bookstore in Nungambakkam. Through a long evening, he peered through his thick lenses, answering even the most obvious questions with good humour, occasionally sharing an impish smile as he tackled the long and winding queue of people seeking autographs at the store.

Continue reading “Guest post: A tryst with author RK Narayan”

Story of my three book contract

Earlier this year, I signed on a piece of paper with a trembling hand and suddenly, I was an author with a series contract with Harper Collins India. My transformation left me with nothing but a sense of giddiness and sweaty palms. As the elation vanished, I realised that I had only written one of the three books promised to the sweet gals at HC so I went back to work, keeping the contract carefully plasticated somewhere in a forgotten drawer.

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Which is why I completely forgot to tell you all, my readers, friends and those who’ve rooted for me (or would like to now) about how it happened. So here’s the tall tale.

For my first book, The Ghost Hunters of Kurseong, finding a publisher had been quite a breeze from what I had been expecting (1. Get rejections from all major publishers 2. Put it up online as an ebook and then figure). When the wonderful editor at Hachette India showed interest on a direct submission to their website (without an agent, something that they do for one or two titles a year. Pitch to them, peeps!), I looked at the email, reread it, rubbed my eyes and did a jiggle. From the first interest to the contract was a long marathon of three months full of butterflies in the stomach. But the contract happened and I thought, wow, this was quite okay. Not as bad as the horror stories of 100 rejection emails and all that.

Then Anantya Tantrist happened. My first novel for adults with a tantric heroine who is such a badass that my cheeks flame up sometimes when I am writing her story. Her world is brutal and so is her attitude. But I was more confident with her. Hachette India had already said yes to one of my books, so selling the second should be better? Yes?

NO.

I realised that with a kick in the butt. She and her world were (and still are) a series character in my head. I already wanted to write book 2 of her story and then book 3 and then you know how it goes. But already, rejections were piling up like bad advice from astrologers. They are still piling up by the way, only they come from other countries now. There were so many reasons that The Cult of Chaos, the book one in Anantya Tantrist’s series, got rejected. Most of them were polite and polished and told me nothing. I had already given the book to an editor at HC (Let’s call her ED) who I knew would loved SFF titles (having already stalked her online). She was sweet and Anantya liked her too. I was quite keen on her. But there was no yes till now.

Meanwhile, I fished out a list of agents and sent my book to them, panic building up in me. It had been months. I had moved on to launching my other books, but it had been months! WritersSide was the fastest to respond back and take my book on. They did that in a day (I am still surprised about that one). WS helped me by communicating with HC again and sending it to a lot of other publishers who didn’t have any general submission email ids. But I was most keen on ED, because Anantya kept on telling me that she liked her and if you know Anantya, you will realise, she seldom likes people. Since Anantya wasn’t letting me be, I accosted ED at Bangalore Lit Fest last year and told her what Anantya was insisting I tell her. That she’s the editor for Anantya‘s story. Kudos to ED, she took it with a straight face, even though it was quite sunny. I guess she’s used to writers of all crazy kinds. HC had some doubts about the violence in the books, which we figured, discussed and finally, that trembling moment came for me when I signed the three-book contract. It took eight months from when I finished The Cult of Chaos. The book will be released in November 2014.

What this has taught me

– You need to find the right editor for the book. ED was right for the book, even though she had initial doubts. She loved the idea of Anantya and her world. If the editor connects with the book, she will fight the battle for your book from the beginning (getting you a contract) to the end (speaking about it at panels with sparkles in her eyes). So right editor, peeps, very very important. And that begins with focusing on people and not on the publisher. ED, thanks btw!

– I always wanted to write more than one books about Anantya, but when I started to find a publisher for her, I didn’t think of pitching the first book as a series. I know, kinda dumb, but I don’t think future too much. There WS helped me refocus. They insisted on me writing briefs of possible stories for Books 2 and 3 (which I surprisingly managed on a holiday). That way, I am sure that I get three of Anantya’s titles published even if Book 1 fails to make a mark (which I hope doesn’t happen). But it gives me insurance of some kind about the three books. Even though I had to take lesser advances for book 2 and 3 (because the publisher’s risk increases). WS also helped me streamline the contract and make is bare minimum so that I retain most of my rights and can sell them somewhere else.

– All of this: the pitching, the marketing, workshops, conferences, panels, the selling, the media, internet, social media, all of it distracts you from the one thing you started with: Love of writing. It’s important to switch off after you’ve got a contract or after the book is out. Switch off and keep writing (goes under notes to self). Again and again.

Book 1 of Anantya Tantrist series releases in November 2014. Meanwhile, visit Anantya Tantrist’s blog or follow her on Facebook or Twitter or Google+

The dentist nightmare

reaper199x309-1One early morning, while I was sleeping, a premolar fell off my upper set of teeth. It fell into the dark abyss of my mouth and lay there like a hardened piece of rock. ‘Go back to sleep,’ I told myself. ‘It’s just a nightmare.’ Always happens after or before a dentist visit is due. But I woke up, my heart throbbing, as blood pumped into my brain. ‘Only a nightmare,’ I repeated to myself, rotating my tongue to check all my teeth. One was missing. It lay in my mouth, like a hardened piece of rock. I pulled it out, panic throbbing my brain. ‘Oh shit oh shit oh shit,’ I said aloud, running to the dentist.

‘You just cleaned it last week,’ I screamed at him. ‘Why is it still dirty?’ I showed him the broken premolar, looking at him accusingly. Its inside was stained with patches of yellow (remnants of my tea habit). He looked abashed but said nothing. Dentists!

I stomped over to the mirror, tears in my eyes. What would happen to my smile now? I do smile a lot. Will it become a horrible, witchy grin with a gaping blackhole for a tooth? Will I be a villain in my tale for the rest of my life? I opened my mouth wide, trying to see the damage. The gap was there all right, right there in the upper right side of my set of teeth. I was about to shut my trap up and cry when I saw the little white spot. Another babytooth lay growing out of the gap. I took a calming breath. Okay, so maybe it was just a pre-wisdom tooth that fell off and finally my wisdom tooth was making an appearance. Maybe my smile won’t be ruined! (Yay!) The little tooth will grow up and fill up the gap and no one would know about this. It would all be forgotten like a bad dream!

But that wasn’t it. I saw a little drilled hole above the baby tooth. Something, an instinct lying dormant in the back of my head, make me snarl. Out popped two sharp vampire claw-like teeth. One on each side of my mouth. I was shocked.

‘Oh,’ I said out aloud, shock making me close my mouth. The vampire teeth pricked my lower gum. ‘Ouch,’ I cried. I would have to be careful about this new set from hurting myself. I snarled a little bit more (for what else can you do when you are shocked?) and a whole other set of teeth grew up inside my upper set of teeth. I snarled some more and there was another set of teeth inside the new ones. A lower snarl showed me two sets of sharpened, pointed teeth alongside my lower jaw too.

‘Oh,’ I cried as the six set of teeth, two normal and four sharpened like a tiger’s or a carnivorous animal’s. ‘Will I need to change my eating habits now?’ I asked my mirror self. By now my conscious mind realized that it was all part of a nightmare. I woke up, my heart throbbing, as blood pumped into my brain.

The broken piece of tooth, plasticated now, lay in my palm when I opened my eyes.

===============

Ever since my first visit to a dentist, I have always got nightmares before or after a visit to the flatbacked chair of the tooth fiddler. This is one the happened on Sunday morning, a few days after a dentist visit. Once I woke up, I woke my husband up and recited the nightmare to him. He never really completely believed in the shudders I had before a visit to a dentist. Now he believes I am scarred for life.

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The importance of failing to write

Failure. That fear that makes all of us run, constantly hurrying in the rat race, getting less sleep, tossing and turning in bed at night, worried, worried that we might fail in making it to our dreams, our goals, fail our children and parents’ expectations or worse, our own expectations from ourselves. Failure is a dirty, filthy word in our world. There with shit, vomit and death. Which is perhaps why no one mentions it, no one wants to remembers it, no one repeats or talks about it.

When I first started to write, I had many no-writing days, many days when I would stare at a screen, panic building up in the dark, squishy pits of my stomach, wondering if I could write, if I was writing anything that made sense to me, would make sense to anyone, would be good enough. I was ashamed of it. I felt that if I failed to write one day, one week or one month, that was it. I was a fake, pretending to be a writer, when I couldn’t even frame one sensible word after another. It had to be me, right? For no one else seems to be going through this. No other author/artists/writer talks about this. I thought I was alone. And it did make it all the more miserable.

Now I am different. Or I hope I am. In not that I don’t fail to write anymore, or that I have won over failure because I have written complete works of novels and have been published. No. I am different because I have realised how failing to write is ESSENTIAL for my writing. Failure, or as I think of it, my blackhole day, is the lifebreath, or the vacuum that comes before a flow of creativity.

failure (1)I fail at writing every day. Every damn day. I sit in front of the computer, my hands spread like claws on my keyboard and I do not know what word to put after the first one and then the other. Failure is essential to my creative process. I have to constantly fall right into failed words and failed ideas to know that they’re not working. I stare everyday deep into failure’s eyes, say hello there and know that like the heroine I am writing about, I too will come out of the frozen phase into creativity, into light, into success of expressing the story. But not today.

You have to, and I repeat, have to, fail to write and get over the fear in order to begin.

You have to do it every day, when you ponder on what word comes next, what the character says next and have no clue as to what that might be. You have to fail to write more than write itself. When you are writing, and you know it’s all wrong and you have to delete it tomorrow and start afresh. You have to be wrong, you have to fail.

Tweet in point. For only when you fail, when you stare into the blackhole for a whole day, does your creative mind bless you with a few words to express the story that has been dancing in your head. It’s a blessing really and enjoy it, for tomorrow, in writing that fresh scene, you will start to fail again.

I write this not so much as a catharsis but also as a call out for those desperately looking for a sign of success while in the blackhole. Fail, it’s okay. It’s okay to drop a book unfinished, it’s okay to write a completely wrong or badly sentenced scene. It’s okay to fail. For you have to learn how to fail in order to succeed.

As a quote attributed to Thomas Edison says:

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” 

And till now, with the grace of the muses who look after me for no apparent reason, I haven’t had a day when the blackhole of failure doesn’t dry up the next day when I am keying in words.

Keep failing, peeps!