Finally the day has come. And what can be better than the start of the new year to do something that you have cringed from all of last year? I am going to close Mystery of the Iyer Bungalow (yes, dear readers, it’s still not published. The reason is that it’s still being edited and has not been even shown to a publisher yet). I have begun the process of pitching its manuscript to publishers starting January. I was afraid all of end of last months of 2011. I cringed, stalled, questioned, panicked, and analysed. Basically did everything in the WHAT IFS category and didn’t pitch the book.
Now I am geared myself for rejections, criticisms, rotten tomatoes and jeers. Basically anything and everything that anyone who wants to throw can throw at me.
Maybe it’s the new year. But I am determined. I am determined that I will follow my dream and write and write some more.
MY NEW YEAR NO-RESOLUTIONS
Here are things I am NOT going to do this new year:
- I will not be afraid of reactions to my writing.
- I will not think on writing and not write.
- I will not compare.
- I will not worry about what my life would have been with different choices
- I will not be afraid out trying new things.
- I will not worry about how bad I write
- I will not equate success with the money I could have been earning.
- I will not feel lonely and boring.
- I will not feel envious of books I enjoy reading.
- I will not stick to my comfort zone.
With so many things I had been doing, it’s a wonder I still write. Stubborn I think 🙂
A sentimental note for Mystery of the Iyer bungalow: As I put in the finishing touches to the my first manuscript of the Mystery of the Iyer Bungalow, I feel a sense of anti-climax. While editing the book, I realised that it could have become so many other books with the same characters, with the same settings. I would like to change it a bit, tweak it from here, add things to that side, but I cannot. Not anymore. I know it’s not perfect still, I don’t think it ever will become perfect. Like a mother, I feel I am over-fretting on my child rather than setting it free. So many emotions. When did I become so attached to just words? I hope someone else becomes attached to this imperfect book, reads it and enjoys it. That’s after all, the most important thing.