This is probably the 7th time (there may be more that I just can’t recall but have somewhere written in the notebooks getting covered in dust) that I am starting to write my story.
The first time was when I was 17. I remember how I had burned all those little snippets of my story. It was important for me to destroy them at that time. I needed freedom from a past that I wasn’t able to let go. I remember how I had stored the ashes in a black poly bag for more than a year. Then, one day, I just felt that it was time to let it all go and I threw the ashes in the bin. Now when I think of my disposal plan, I feel it would have been so much more dramatic if I had thrown them in a river, a proper asthi-visarjan.
A second attempt was in the form of a long poem that I began to write. I wrote about a 1000 words in one day but after reaching one point, I never opened it again. The diary in which I wrote, it stares at me every time I open my book shelf. It doesn’t haunt me. I never felt like destroying it. It was just going to be a loooooong poem. Not a book. I was able to write down the struggle but I ended up stopping at the point where it was time to get up. This was in 2016.
There was another attempt in the same year. This was in prose. I had written 8 chapters. But I ended up scrapping the idea later as I did not want that part of my story to be the central idea of my book. This one even had a title: Tasi: the ocean of her dreams.
The next time I tried, it was on a mobile app. I had written about 6-7 short chapters and detailed the backgrounds of my characters. This was had a bit of fiction added to it. And I was going to split my personality into two characters. I may work on it some time again and turn it into a complete fiction.
The fifth attempt was in January 2018. I wrote 5 chapters. It was turning out to be a good attempt. But I just procrastinated.
Then, I had an idea about writing about a character who was based on my life but was much more a rebel than I already am. I could not write beyond two paragraphs. Wondering why? I could not decide on the name of a food. I could not recall the dish that was there in real life and all the dishes that I could think of, they did not fit my story line. I will write this one when I am able to remember the name of the dish. Because it’s going to be about a woman who is brutally honest.
Coming to the current attempt, I plan to take the form of letters and poems. I am not sure about the story line. Maybe I’ll just go with my current thoughts and emotions. I believe that keeping it in the epistolary form will help me keep the story line loosely-knitted. Less of planning on the plot when compared with the novel form. This one’s titled Pause to Breathe.
It wasn’t my plan to start right now. But then I thought if I never start it, how am I going to complete it? It would be fine even I don’t complete it again. At least I started. A special thanks to Mimi for prompting me to start.
Who knows if I just merge all the parts of all my attempts turn it into one piece? 😉
March 9, 2020