It is therapeutic. What? A free write. Of course.
Ha! Stumped you with the title huh? Made you click on the post thinking it is not a rant.
In my defense.
I spend days and nights working on emails and campaigns and initiatives and office and when Sunday night hits home I am back to where I started. A free write. In my defense I tried. Writing a post on being a control freak. We might know how that turned out one of these days.
It puts me in some sort of trance. The idea that I can speak. That I can say exactly what is on my mind. Well not exactly. We wouldn’t want that no, will we?
But still, what am I thinking? Why I hate saying a word or even thinking one on 16 December. The girl. The bus.
Takes a walk around the house and comes back. Sits.
I cannot write about it. I simply cannot. No, not even think.
Takes another walk.
What am I thinking?
I need to buy a new diary, new shoes for work. A dress for new years? A phone! Desperately need one.
Only? I am relatively quiet in my head today it seems.
Maybe I should backspace it all and write that post on control freak. How long will I continue this charade?
Dumb Charades. Called life.
Stay away from complicated ideas. Tells to head and sits back. Watches the blank screen. Why blank? Have I written anything substantial so far?
The silence. Sound of nothing in the house. I miss it. If I were living in hills I might have more writing accomplished.
If writers waited for better moods to strike them, there would be no writing accomplished.
I have this written in my diary. Time to frame it. I need this. More often to strike home than the bad moods themselves.
Can we be so dependent? In life. On people, situations, people?
Maybe people are situations and situations are people.
3.14 is the value of pi.
Just saying. No relevance as such.
Pi. Circle. In circles. Me moving. You moving.
Okay next few lines had to be backspaced. They were…what can I say.. a little too honest maybe?
Pathological liar. I saw an episode of Castle on TV tonight around the idea. Pathological liar.
Are all writers nothing but a creative case of pathological liar syndrome?
In one word? Yes.
How else do you think we accomplish so much writing? By documenting our everyday bread and butter lives? Maybe. But in that too there are lies. One we tell ourselves to carry on each day.
Honest confessions have flowery words. Lies come in colors. Some of them white.
It isn’t easy. Being a writer. It brings out sides to you. One you didn’t know existed. You may be an introvert in real life but a wild cat on paper or the other way round.
Do you write?
Really? What’s your thing?
Connecting it with Write Tribe’s #MondayMusings
P.S I had ranted on my blog about the 16 December when it had happened. In case you want to read, link is below:
Its not police government or politicians it is us who is to be blamed #DelhiGangrape
Ha ha! You know what? I need to do this. Free write while counting words. You do it so well and effortlessly. And 16th Dec? well, we are all thinking about it and our blood boils every time. I read a First Post news last night and I wonder what’s the truth. Dig that up when you get time. Happy Monday!
Really? There is an alternate truth to this news piece as well. What is real then?
Yeah, you make it seem pretty effortless, throwing in topics like writers’ block, psyche of a writer and other profound topics with such panache! No dearth of research on these, but your way is a far more enjoyable read 🙂
haha I am happy my way is enjoyable. Cause it is either my way or highway 😀
Nice one, Richa! 😀 You’re very good at free write. Love the way your thoughts and words flow. Will surely check out your post about Dec 16!
Do that whenever you can, very rant like it is though
Ahh that wasn’t a free write, was it? I think there was more coherence in it than incoherence…Well, even I don’t want to write about the girl, the bus and the events that followed…I’m thinking about it, disturbed too with what is happening but can’t bring myself to write about it, atleast not yet..
You thought so Naba? Maybe it was more honest and hence coherent….
You’re getting better and better at this, Richa.
About that night of Dec 16…the worst part is that it still continues every night in some dark corner of this country, in homes even….I feel a post coming on.
Or maybe I am getting worse and worse at this 😀 There is no telling right?
This post just blew my mind. I come back to your page and re -read it and find yet another interesting insinuation that I missed last time around. I love the way your thoughts flow and I sincerely doubt that for a moment there your mind went blank. That’s why perhaps the honest confession of all writers being pathological liars is so close home.
The other aspect that you put out there so subtly yet so simply was writing that brings out various aspects of one’s personality. So so true. Isnt it through writing that we can live so many lives, so many lies – of various shapes , size and colour and move beyond the daily bread and butter?
I feel like taking a print of this and pasting it at my desk as an illustration of how layered, simple writing can be. But I guess that would freak some people out. Let me keep re – reading this note till I get to write something so clear and crisp and poignant . Can that be my thing ..too?
I wish I can take a print of your comment here. Yes at times writing can be so many things. Maybe honesty brings out more complexity than lies ever can…
What is my thing? Writing. Going to a mountain or a cave is an ultimate idea where u can sit n write sans disturbance but if u wait fr inspiration, you will keep waiting.