First-hand advice to bloggers who plan to write long stories, especially ones which are wound around themselves, and portray their emerging victorious at the end of a struggle-so-straining! Please don't embark on such a mission on your primary blog. You may as well create a second account and continue writing it at your own pace.
Else, creativity chokes you. A brilliant idea flashes only to die out in the next second, for your conscience does not allow you to stop your novel mid-way. After all, who would want self-praise to abruptly terminate?!
Heard melodies are sweet, those unheard are sweeter. - John Keats.
Heard blogs are sweet. Those unheard are the sweetest. - Me!
Having said that, I am done with my mission of meandering around managing meetings, money, music and musicians. That attempt stalled my blogging, for an year and a half. Somehow, the shame of leaving a story incomplete for a couple of years made me publish the last two acts. What I lost in the process was a truckload of creative ideas. So, no more new novels in this blog. Short and sweet posts shall reign.
Playing music for the audience and penning words for the reader alone is a crime, and goes against the very purpose of art and its glory. I am borrowing this story from my dad, to illustrate how a sincere artist thinks and feels.
Ammannur Madhava Chakyar, an expert in Kootiyaattam and Chaakyaar koothu (both traditional art-forms of Kerala, earlier performed in temple precincts), used to render the Chaakyaar Koothu at the temple. Some days attracted a large audience, for he was a thorough master at what he did. There was a rare occasion when no one was present to lend an ear. The Melshanthi(the prime person who performs all Pooja at a temple) had retired for a bath, too. The sincere artist that Ammannur was, he continued his recital in its most elaborate and sublime form, only to attract the Melshanti's attention when he returned. The latter advised him to cut his recital short, for there was not an ear that paid attention. Ammannur's reply was quick and pointed:
"This divine lamp lit in front of me is both audience and inspiration. Art is divine, and transcends the earthly listener's presence, or absence."
Likewise, this blog of mine has been targeted at a blind audience to-date. What keeps it going is a pure passion for writing, independent of the presence (or absence) of a reader. I wish to extend my special thanks to Rohon Kuddus, my batchmate at NITC, for having taken time to read my blogs and for having considered to publish it in his webmag(www.sristi.co.in).
Though I have not been able to gain access to the URL from this cafe, I promise to contribute to the webmag in every possible manner, for art is divine.
Else, creativity chokes you. A brilliant idea flashes only to die out in the next second, for your conscience does not allow you to stop your novel mid-way. After all, who would want self-praise to abruptly terminate?!
Heard melodies are sweet, those unheard are sweeter. - John Keats.
Heard blogs are sweet. Those unheard are the sweetest. - Me!
Having said that, I am done with my mission of meandering around managing meetings, money, music and musicians. That attempt stalled my blogging, for an year and a half. Somehow, the shame of leaving a story incomplete for a couple of years made me publish the last two acts. What I lost in the process was a truckload of creative ideas. So, no more new novels in this blog. Short and sweet posts shall reign.
Playing music for the audience and penning words for the reader alone is a crime, and goes against the very purpose of art and its glory. I am borrowing this story from my dad, to illustrate how a sincere artist thinks and feels.
Ammannur Madhava Chakyar, an expert in Kootiyaattam and Chaakyaar koothu (both traditional art-forms of Kerala, earlier performed in temple precincts), used to render the Chaakyaar Koothu at the temple. Some days attracted a large audience, for he was a thorough master at what he did. There was a rare occasion when no one was present to lend an ear. The Melshanthi(the prime person who performs all Pooja at a temple) had retired for a bath, too. The sincere artist that Ammannur was, he continued his recital in its most elaborate and sublime form, only to attract the Melshanti's attention when he returned. The latter advised him to cut his recital short, for there was not an ear that paid attention. Ammannur's reply was quick and pointed:
"This divine lamp lit in front of me is both audience and inspiration. Art is divine, and transcends the earthly listener's presence, or absence."
Likewise, this blog of mine has been targeted at a blind audience to-date. What keeps it going is a pure passion for writing, independent of the presence (or absence) of a reader. I wish to extend my special thanks to Rohon Kuddus, my batchmate at NITC, for having taken time to read my blogs and for having considered to publish it in his webmag(www.sristi.co.in).
Though I have not been able to gain access to the URL from this cafe, I promise to contribute to the webmag in every possible manner, for art is divine.
