Reading and writing are such intermingled activities. Even when you aren’t putting things on paper per se, you are debating, reiterating and extrapolating ideas you have read about. And maybe that is the ultimate sci-fi plot- in the future you’ll be able to read books directly off of the writer’s brain by telepathy! I am still thinking of ways you’d read a book posthumously (apart from pickling authors’ brains) but meanwhile the idea’s out there for you guys to mull about.
Lately, I have been having trouble concentrating on reading books I typically would have devoured in hours. At first I attributed it to a ‘been there, done that’ syndrome. All mysteries had become obvious, all endings ‘blah’ and all non-fiction was now impossible to get through. And then the syndrome rolled over on to books by my favorite authors and suddenly I knew. I had developed a serious attention deficit disorder when it came to reading. My mind flickered between wanting to read, then an unconscious lament that I was no longer writing,and finally to wondering if there were any updates on the numerous social media I am subscribed to.
I was suddenly afraid! At this rate, my brain would wither and die. I would not learn anything new. My information on a lot of subjects is checkered, incomplete (extremely incomplete considering most information is already incomplete). How then am I supposed to engage in meaningful discussions, write comprehensible prose or even understand new information? As it turns out, according to this discussion, my brain maybe going through what is called ‘bi-literacy’. I have become so used to the constant barrage of information electronic media provides me with, that I no longer can efficiently read anything on paper. If I am reading on paper, instead of taking notes and looking up unknown information later, I immediately look it up on my ‘smart-phone’ (information at finger-tips anyone?) and then fall into this rabbit-hole of following link after link until my original reading material no longer remains relevant. To add to my vice, there are numerous websites and apps out there that try to concise information for you so you don’t have to read multiple pages. Adding what looks like helpful links only delinks my reading process. I’ll admit I still read such websites if their writing style appeals to me. I love witty posts above any other kind.
I am officially a skimmer (I better look that up on Urban dictionary to make sure it isn’t anything derogatory, but I’ll do that after I finish writing this piece).
P.S. If you are reading this, three cheers to you to have waited to click the article links after you read my entire post. If you are anything like me, you wouldn’t have come back!
Yes, Summer is exciting and the warm sun naturally puts you in a good mood, but tell me how can you not smile, when curling up with a nice mug of pumpkin spice latte (alright, alright! all you PSL haters can have your cup of regular coffee) or hot cocoa?
It’s that time of the year again, when Nature is getting ready to sleep for a long winter, but first she must put on a show. She tries to distract us from what she bringing on next, with the pretty colors, the nip in the air that makes us sleepy-the scent of apples, pumpkins and dying leaves adding to the headiness. Fall is such a beautiful, polar opposite to Spring when everything is waking up from a deep slumber of sorts. She reminds us to take it slow, to relax and unwind after long months of working (and vacationing) and to spend hours indoors without feeling guilty (after all, a lot of animals hibernate without being judged) or go for long walks with the only sound being that of leaves getting crunched under your feet.
Fall is less harsh on you than other seasons, chunky sweaters that hide your weight, boots to hide your dislike of pedicures, darker hues like burgundy,maroon and emerald hiding your less than perfect nails. It’s almost as if after all the exposure and constant pressure to look your best in Summer, Fall is saying ‘there is nothing wrong in being a little imperfect’. Because so is she. For all her beauty, she heralds Winter, that darned season which in some parts of the world is more cruel than in others. The frequent snow, which tries to enamor you with its cold beauty, but ends up antagonizing you with the first storm, the loss of extended sunlight, the slow depression that creeps up on the frail. No, Winter I can live without. Fall, maybe not. I have only lived through eight New England fall seasons so far, but I have loved every one of them. The smell of apple cider donuts, apple pies, pumpkin scones and butternut squash soup warms my heart and no thought of Winter creeps into my mind. And then once the Thanksgiving fervor has passed, my birthday frenzy has calmed down, the twinkling Christmas lights have been put away, and the New Year party sounds have died, do I start feeling the dread that winter brings with it. But at that point Fall has long passed. So no, Fall does not fill my heart with dread. She tells me that the most wonderful time of the year is about to begin and boy, is she right!
I love to write. Well, let me rephrase that. I’d love to write. But it needs practice, like every other hobby, skill or job. And unfortunately people like me under-rate practice to a dangerous extent.
When I was young(er), I wanted to be anyone literary. English professor, writer, journalist, column writer what have you. Too bad the blogger profession didn’t exist back then or that’d have been on my list too. Well, it’d have been achievable anyway.
As much as people detest (or pretend to detest) the changes brought about by technology, they cannot deny the numerous benefits. For example, people who want to write can finally share their musings with the world without going through the oft-possible heartbreak by literary agents, publishers and media. Your work is directly in the hands of people who decided they wanted to read it and who may decide your ideas, your creativity is something they’d be interested in following. That’s a pretty huge responsibility!
But on the flip side, quality is often sacrificed for quantity (for eg.take this post. Just kidding. This is an excellent piece of write-up. Read on!)
So when I am asked if I’d rather be Lord Dunsany or G.R.R Martin, Mervyn Peake or E.L James (even though that comparison caused me physical pain as I typed it), I’ll be greedy and say I want to be J.R.R Tolkien or J.K. Rowling. As beautiful the writings of Lord Dunsany and Mervyn Peake, they remain the choice of a few maverick readers. Tolkien and Rowling are rare successes made possible by sound writing, great exposure through movies and great timing. That would really be a job for the literary fairy, if I wished for it! So if I have to resort to vulgarity, obvious gimmicks and cheap language to sell my books, I’d rather remain anonymous, unknown. I’d like to write something that would invoke goosebumps in the reader with the pleasure of a finite story and its subplots, the play on words, the exoticism of a created language, the refined prose and sublime poetry. So while kudos to the success of those who got away with writing so little of substance, I say thanks but no thanks. As much as I’d love to make millions while teasing readers about my imminent death and potential unwritten endings to my story, I’d love to find those chosen few (or in all optimism those millions) who’ll bring my writings alive every time they speak of it and who will collect every edition and re-read my work on bright summer afternoons and cozy, snowy days.
I am Pallavi and I have a serious case of writers’ block.
Disclaimer: Majority of future posts will be subjective. Objective posts will link to articles where you can go get the information yourself (if you already haven’t)
Hope you find something worth reading here! Or..
Y’all are welcome!