Where the pen dashes

Privacy. Me time. Light. Atmosphere. Tea/Coffee. Snug. Notepad and pen.

These are a few things I think of when I try to define my physical space for writing. A strong Wi-Fi connection has found its way into the list as well more recently ūüėõ

Ideal place for writing would be at a table in a corner, near a window with a good view, with the right amount of light and enough natural light streaming in the room. It can be any sort of weather outside but overall it must be cozy with the right amount of shade and sun, or shelter if it’s raining.

Although I mentioned a notepad, nowadays I’m switching to writing more on more on my laptop and this wonderful thing caters to my need for music, endless set of blank pages, easy storage and general browsing. Which invariably means having a socket nearby to charge the friend and a good Wi-Fi connection. I might not be using it most of the time but I still need it there, just in case.

There should be enough room to accommodate the phone, earphones, laptop, a medium sized notepad, a pen that’s good to hold and writes smoothly, and a pencil and a pot of anything, after I have plonked down my bag. There should be room for all this + elbow room to write and room to tip the chair without decimating something (especially china) from time to time.

Above all else, I need a sense of privacy and ‚Äúme time‚ÄĚ in my physical space.

Whether I am sitting with people I know, by myself at a bistro table on the sidewalk, in a crowded room, I am happy to have people around as long as they don’t try to include me in a conversation or feel obliged to begin one. Companionable silence is so underrated.

Having thought so much about an “ideal place” truth be told, if I get some “me time”, a place that feels right and something to write with, it will be a good place to write and for that moment – it will be my ideal place to right.


Pink Lightning – Dare to be Yourself

Dare to be yourself.

                                РAndre Gide

While flipping through various pages here I came across a beautiful video posted by Sandra R.¬†on¬†her blog¬†about her exploration of¬†Bali, Indonesia. Its fun, catchy and is¬†another poke at me, to get off the armchair and do the things I think I want to‚ĶIts not easy to make time, travel and¬†explore an unknown country solo, with a completely different culture, make time for other people by¬†volunteering during your trip and express your experience as creatively. People talk about it but very¬†few actually get down to doing it. I know ‚Äď I talk about it.

She used One Republic‚Äôs ‚ÄúI Lived‚ÄĚ for her video journal. A very catchy number. I liked it so much that I¬†decided to look up the official video and found Bryan Warnecke.

Bryan is a 16 year old with cystic fibrosis, a painful, restricting condition that affects the lungs. The current life expectancy for him is 36 years. You can read more about him in this article.

But that’s not why I am writing this. That’s not why he is special.

Bryan is more than just a patient. In fact, I don’t think he has ever been a patient. Bryan is a goalie of his hockey team Arapahoe Warriors, whom he helped win the State championship in Colorado. He is an athlete, a young boy who didn’t get the best news very early on in life…and used it to create a spectacular life, which he is living right now.

Does that mean that all‚Äôs ok? No it doesn‚Äôt. It sucks. It must really suck to be someone this smart, this¬†accepting and gutsy, to appreciate life ‚Äď which honestly, not enough of us do and have it for a short¬†time. It must be worse to go through pain to live the way you want to, within the time you have and be¬†optimistic because 36 is better than what they may have said earlier‚Ķ

To go through life and see people around you living healthily and yet wasting it‚Ķand still go through¬†pain to just live. Live ‚Äď because you were meant to! I can’t imagine how he feels and what he is going through. And I’m not going to pretend to

This is not a pep talk for anyone. And Bryan is way better and more worthwhile than being used for reference in a random post.

Watching Bryan go from one achievement to another, reading about his courage and pure grit, his wisdom and quiet strength, while living through and through everyday as much as he can, touched a chord. It showed me how life can be lived. He isn’t even aware of my existence and till yesterday, I wasn’t aware of his.

And he inspires me.

His story alone acted as a message and that message will probably be the making of me ‚Äď it will play a¬†crucial role in shaping who I want to be and the way I will be.

Bryan probably isn’t remotely concerned about inspiring anyone and it will just be his kindness if he is. But his life is his message. No one and nothing that was said could get through to me as he has.

By this I don‚Äôt mean that he will live forever ‚Ķ but I know he has lived more in his years that many have¬†in a life. AND¬†he has touched the lives of others – people he doesn’t know of, hasn’t interacted with or even met – just by being himself.

I am writing this for anyone who has cystic fibrosis or any other condition that they are trying to battle,¬†anyone who is standing for something or willing to, anyone who is afflicted by something that they are¬†experiencing and living with daily ‚Äď whether it‚Äôs a condition, a disease, bullying at school, harassment,¬†peer pressure, result of wrong decisions, self-hate, depression, loss of a loved one or anything at all.

I don’t at all mean to equate these or offend anyone’s sentiments

I do wish to say however to anyone going through a problem, experiencing pain and anyone who is doing something about it, can do something about it, doesn’t have the resources to do anything about it, doesn’t think that he/she can do something about it, has tried to do something about it…

You are all heroes in your own right.

Denis Waitley said –

It’s not what you are that holds you back, It’s what you think you’re not.

So who knows your limits? No one, not even you.

If it’s a challenge in your life, the reason you have it is that you can overcome it. You must acknowledge reality. But you can and must own it and once you do, you make a different reality. You can accomplish a life which you could have only imagined. If Bryan has shown me anything, it is that.

It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined.

                                                                           РHenry James

So I am going to use this inspiration and create the life I want. And hope that you do too.

You can read about¬†Bryan’s team on their site called¬†Pink Lightning. I am writing about him as I find his story inspirational. This is not a promotion.

Writing about writer’s block

Generally ideas should be spewing forth, given the scope

presented by such writing prompts as ‘regret’ and ‘hope’‚Ķ

Something I am certain I must have felt many a time,

And ought to be able to reflect or speak of in a few lines…

Surely, they are something any of my choices must reflect in abundance (?!)

Yet I still draw an absolute blank as I try to crank out a single sentence…

Let alone work towards a theme, idea or even remember a single experience,

And this includes those which can be read by an adult audience!

Continue reading “Writing about writer’s block”

Hashtag, from the aortic pump

So far, I have overthought this topic into knots, started free writing and deleted each of the 3¬†4 paras…Of all the writing assignments, I thought this one would be easy but can’t make up my mind about the range it should cover…

Okay, here goes a list of things that I’ll have to figure out as I go along and others which I am happy I have done ~

1. Allow myself to do the things I like to do. Truly like to do. Even though they are healthy…like yoga

2. Stop forcing myself to like alcohol

3. Accept that I may have developed a taste for a few sorts though

4. Take a solo trip to some place without losing anything…limited edition wallets are very very hard to find

5. Understand that that’s why it was called a limited edition wallet and stop looking for that one!

Continue reading “Hashtag, from the aortic pump”

I write because…

Because I fell in love with writing and never got over it

Because I have been told that¬†writers are¬†impractical, improvident, impecunious and many other things that writers have been deemed to be by a few and I still don’t care¬†

Because I found Wodehouse, Stroud and Gaiman and can’t think of anyone cooler¬†

Also because I can’t think of anyone with a better sense of humour, dark or otherwise and am forever going to associate intelligence with that

Because I have thought I can’t /couldn’t/write badly/ gone for a while without it and have tried to forget about¬†it…see how that worked out?

Continue reading “I write because…”

Moving on from the shitty first draft

“Give yourself permission to write a shitty first draft” ¬†–¬†Ann Lamotte¬†.

The best quote I have read in a while.

Thing is I have written a few drafts over time and each of them gave the impression of being a first…primarily because am neither a writer, nor its new age version – a blogger. Very indisciplined, just as easily bored and ramble off like an old sailor, minus the rum and the stories.

Technically, they were all first drafts, because either by the virtue of a limited imagination, poor writing or pointless rambling, they were destined to be so…They were, as Anne very honestly¬†points out, shitty as well.

Continue reading “Moving on from the shitty first draft”

For songs that keep runnin’ on…

It’s been an age since I wrote last and truth be told, the nib’s¬†rusty and the ink, like the ideas, seems to have dried out.

Its 3 in the morning – a time that’s¬†fast becoming one of my favourite slots¬†of day and night, of late. Not a sound from the street…the one time when even the stragglers¬†aren’t about…those caught up in the mundane are home in bed, the innocent¬†sleep snugly, the responsible because they ought to…

Some lie in bed worrying about what tomorrow may bring and the young believe they will win the world and celebrate their conviction.

And a few like me, sit up to enjoy these hours however they may.

Amidst all this, a baritone voice singing joyously in the quiet of the night makes me somehow think of sunny days and stories written in a small town cafe.

Came across this photograph about the same time and was suddenly reminded of this day in Luxembourg –¬†a bright¬†Wednesday, full of colour, quirkiness and holiday cheer of course. Few things promote¬†camaraderie among fellow humans and a sunny take on life in general, than a holiday mid-week coinciding with great weather …and overflowing pitchers of course.

I remember walking down this street that day – they had propped up umbrellas as a part of the celebrations for the Duke’s birthday – so we were told. Don’t ask me how they¬†tied into it. Doesn’t matter¬†– it was wonderfully quirky.

I remember watching happy minglers go by, remember the¬†tiniest wisp of smoke curling from a cup of tea – green apple I think it was…and most importantly, I remember the feeling of experiencing a moment completely without doing anything so to say.

Small town cafes have a way of providing the right amount of solitude the right way, while letting you flow with the world.

I liked that city.It was small enough to be familiar but not familiar enough to be restricting.

Looks like the night did set the world right.