Reflections on turning 24

It's been 12 days since I celebrated my 24th birthday. I am 24 now. I am in my parents' home in Tezpur, where Dad is posted for now before he retires in another 4-5 months. I have just completed my screenplay writing course from FTII. And I have just finished watching Julie & Julia on HBO.

I know. Snigger, snigger, chick-flick and all that jazz. But I am seriously not embarrassed about the fact that this movie figures among those few that have actually affected me as a writer, at least. The other contenders include Adaptation, which made me feel good about my writers' block, and Stranger Than Fiction, which for some strange reason, always makes me want to write again.

But as for this movie, there was something about this one story I could totally relate to, not just as a struggling writer waiting to get published or produced, but at a deeply humane level as well. At the end of the day, the film was about two souls searching for a passion, finding it, and then dedicating themselves to it no matter what the obstacles. They had their moments of lows and self-doubts of course, but the important thing is that they kept moving. I think that's what makes all the difference between our journeys. It's not about which journey is worth pursuing and which one is not. It's about which one keeps you moving all the way.

I mean, look at me now. I am 24, as I believed I have mentioned earlier now. I know it's not a very high age to get alarmed, but at the back of my mind, there is always this nagging - acknowledgement - that I haven't really done much yet. There is this book that I have been struggling with for God knows how long. My scripts are right now residing in my portable hard disk. I have yet to get a call from either one of the producers I pitched it to. In another two-three weeks, I will be leaving the comfort of my home to go to Mumbai and begin another journey. Mumbai - a city I have never been in before. Film industry - an industry I know practically nothing about till now. It's like being thrust in the middle of the ocean with no life jacket, and then being requested to make it on the other side of the shore.

But intimidating as the thought may seem at times, yet I am still not reluctant at all to begin. In fact, there are times when I can't wait for these holidays - leisurely as they are - to get over with so that I can initiate my voyage. Of course, there will be sweat and grime and tears at times, but then, what's new about that? Every adventure contains those elements, and if your life is completely missing that right now, well, maybe it's time for you to do a little soul-searching as well.

Anyway, so the point is, leaving aside the inevitable and occasional bouts of frustrations and restlessness I have at times, one thing I am grateful for is that wherever I am right now, I am here by my own choice. There's simply no scope for regrets or blame in my life, and that's a luxury very few people can afford these days.

So God, wherever I may be tomorrow, I thank you for today. :))

... of a struggling writer

When you get down to writing a story, it starts with a bang. You feel like you have something to say to the world. You feel you’re the next big thing after Dostoevsky or Fellini. Then, midway through the journey, it’s like “Oh God, where did the oars go? How do I row this boat anymore?” Leave aside fame and fortune, the very thought of completing the work seems like a stretched fantasy. Characters start getting lost, plot lines appear thinner than before, some things emerge, some things vanish. And all this while, you are trying to remember what really inspired you to tell this story in the first place. Such is the frustration of a struggling writer. It’s not just the occasional writer’s block attack I am referring to here. It’s more of a sense of feeling lost, uncertain, insecure.

Earlier, I was merely a reader, a consumer, a guest into the fictional worlds of different authorial voices. I could like them or dislike them as was my privilege. But now, the very fact that someone out there actually completed a work is enough to earn my admiration. Such are the revelations of a struggling writer.

Writer's Block :((((

One of the most frustrating creative afflictions you can suffer from. Makes you feel like a wannabe with a laptop (or a typewriter or pen, if you will). The blank Word Document seems to mock you, exposing and magnifying every vulnerability and insecurity hidden in your mind with regard to your "talent". Your mind turns into a pessimistic prophet, displaying visions of loneliness, dejection, hair-splitting frustration. You turn back to the few good pieces of work you had created in the glorious, glorious past, and find it difficult to believe they have come from the same source which now appears barren and gloomy. Truly, a depressing period. Alas, if only every malady in the world had a medical cure for it ...

PS: Ironically, I am quite impressed with what I have written about it :))

Wanna check out the richness of a story you wrote? Share it with a couple of friends and see how many interpretations they come up with. The more the number of interpretations, the more layers your work contains.