Poornima Manco

Author

indie writer

What’s the point?

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Every author, regardless of the genre they write in, has some kind of message in their writing. Whether that is good overcomes evil, soulmates exist, happily ever afters are possible, crime doesn’t pay, etc, etc. You get my drift. Now, these messages aren’t necessarily emblazoned on their covers or blurbs. In fact, sometimes, the messages are so deeply buried within the writing that a reader would be hard pressed to vocalise them if asked. But they are there, even in the fluffiest romcom, the bloodiest crime caper, the most nerve-tingling thriller. Search and you will find.

However, sometimes, there is a disconnect between the message sent and the message received. What an author may be trying to say is open to hundreds of interpretations and misinterpretations. It depends on the reader, their mood, their provenance, their cultural history, their upbringing, their exposure to the world and many such factors. That can make for a jarring experience, both for the reader, and also for the author when they read a scathing review of their work. “That wasn’t what I was saying!” An author might cry out in the privacy of their home.

Whose fault is the misunderstanding? The author’s or the reader’s?

Now, having been both, I can tell you that the answer is complex and nuanced. As an author who is trying to put a point across, I want to be subtle. I want to layer my message within the story, the dialogues, the actions of the protagonists and the consequences of those actions. Do I want to beat the reader over the head with my message repeatedly? No! That is the most basic and worst kind of didactic writing there is. Yet, within all of this lies the risk of being misunderstood.

Let’s take the last novel I wrote and released back in 2022: Intersections. Most of the reviews I received were wonderful. Haunting, complex, emotional and compelling were some adjectives used to describe the story. So far, so good. But any writer worth their salt knows that it’s the negative reviews that stick in one’s head. I know of many authors who refuse to read their reviews, content if their works have a high star rating. I, sadly, am not amongst those. I enjoy reading my reviews because I see it as a learning ground. Somewhere I can find out firsthand what my readers are thinking, what I did well and what I could do better.

This one review had me baffled. The reviewer said she found the book was very well written, that I, as the author, had tackled an intricate plot with four alternating viewpoints and kept her engaged throughout. She then went on to talk about the story and finally ended with saying that the reason she wasn’t giving the novel a full five stars, despite having enjoyed it, was because the book didn’t seem to have a point or a higher message. Therefore, she felt it would not endure.

Picture a knife to the heart. That is how gutted I was to read this review. You see, my point had escaped her completely. This novel about four young women from very different walks of life who become friends in childhood, only for their friendship to splinter in their teenage years, for them to go their separate ways and reunite in their forties, had a point and a higher message. I wanted to show how random life can be. How those we perceive to be more fortunate and more blessed than us are subject to the same vagaries of fate as anyone else. Being born into a higher social and economic strata does not ensure happiness nor is it a guarantee of success, while conversely, coming from the lower end of society is not a predictor of misery and failure. Life is messy and unpredictable. Our spheres of control are limited and the sooner we accept that, the quicker we will adapt to and thrive in changed circumstances.

Perhaps it was my fault that my message wasn’t clear enough. Maybe the novel, which begins with an accident, and ends with the reason the accident occurred and the consequences of that fateful evening, felt jarring to this reader because it was too arbitrary to come to terms with. Unfortunately, many a time, life is that way, too.

As I’m working on my next novel, this criticism keeps me wondering whether I’m doing enough to convey my point. This book deals with the circularity of life, of how what goes around comes right back around. Do I keep it understated as I would like to? Or will that be too obscure and unfathomable to a potential reader? I could choose to ignore this reviewer and write what I want to write. That would be at my peril. You see, every reader is precious to me, and their criticism is a part of my growth as a writer.

Therefore, it is incumbent upon me to work on my craft and deliver a reading experience that is consistent with my philosophy, my convictions, and my worldview. Hoping these will be understood and will align with those of the reader, too.

That, after all, is the point.

 

 

Hurry up, slow down

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Where has 2019 gone? I mean, seriously! I know we tend to say this every year when we look back, but this year in particular, has just sped past. Scarily so! Is this a side-effect of ageing? Remember when we were children and time seemed to pass soooo slowwwwly?

So why the ‘hurry up’ in the title of this blog post? Well, it’s quite a personal thing. You see, I am now more than ever, acutely aware that my time on this planet is limited. Gone are the days of youthful insouciance, knowing in one’s bones that there are decades to follow, many many years to accomplish, live, love, party and work. Now, it’s a slow winding down to a more sedate living; less partying, possible retirement and fewer accomplishments. Not yet, I know, but not that far off in the future either.

Hence, there is a need within me to try and hurry up in accomplishing all the goals I have set myself. Writing more books, travelling to far-flung places, reading all the classics I missed the first time around, watching highly-regarded Television shows, discovering little-known gems of movies, doing more and being more. All these desires and the realisation of the paucity of time.

One could argue that no-one knows exactly how long we have to live, so really, the mantra should be to live every day as if it were your last. In reality, though, that is an exhausting thought. Who wants to spend each day chasing goals? I don’t know about you, but I have good days and bad days. Days that I want to do sod-all and days that I am at my productive best. It is in fits and starts and bursts of energy and inspiration that I move forward.

My slow down is an appeal not just to time (when has that ever happened?) but also to myself. In hurtling towards doing more and being more, it’s easy to miss the beauty of just being. There is so much joy and satisfaction to be found in sitting around a dinner table with your family, discussing the mundane details of life. Such pleasure to be had over a cup of coffee with a friend, catching up or reminiscing. So much contentment in sipping a glass of wine in front of the fireplace, sitting quietly with your partner, letting the hypnotic dance of the flames lull you into a serene state of equanimity.

Perhaps it is finding a balance between the hurrying up and slowing down that allows one to live one’s best life. So, here’s to 2020. May it be the best of both.

🍾🥂🎊

A necessary evil?

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So, I took a month off social media in June. This really meant no Facebook, Messenger, Instagram or Whatsapp for an entire month. I have done this previously when going on holiday, as a means of staying ‘in the moment’, rather than living with a screen permanently attached to my hands. Each time I have felt happy, grounded and carefree. And each time, I have wished not to come back to social media at all.

So why do I return? Why can’t I dispense with it altogether if, in the words of Mary Kondo, it is no longer ‘sparking any joy’ within me?

Social media was meant to be a way to connect us to one another. A way to reignite past relationships, reach out across time zones and continents and bridge the gap that time and distance may have created between families and friends. To begin with, it was hugely exciting. Who didn’t want to know what happened to one’s third grade crush? Or, have the ability to be able to call one’s dad for free at anytime, from anywhere? Who didn’t want to be able to display the pretty pictures from a fun weekend at the park, or show off (subtly, of course) the last exotic vacation one had been on? So far, so harmless.

Then it began to morph into something entirely different. Digital connections started taking precedence over real time relationships. What you put out there became more important than the life you were actually leading. Filters airbrushed you into perfection, Whatsapp conversations replaced real chats over a coffee, everything became marketable, fake news was touted as the genuine article and lines became blurred between what was true, real and important, and what was quite honestly, just a facade.

When did we buy into this myth without realising that we were trading our souls? When did what was going on in someone’s house two continents away become more important than what was happening in your immediate vicinity?

Biologically, geographically and in evolutionary terms, humans can only sustain x number of relationships. Those are with your immediate family and friends, and perhaps a few from an extended circle. It is humanly impossible to have over a 1000 friends and give to them the importance and attention that a relationship requires, without our minds and our means snapping.

I once read an interesting article on how social media, particularly platforms such as Facebook keep you hooked. If you take the example of a newspaper or a magazine, you might start at the front, then skim a few articles, read a few in depth and work your way to the end. The salient point being that there IS a physical end to that publication. Now, imagine yourself scrolling through a Facebook feed. You could keep going on and on without there ever being a natural end anywhere up until YOU decide to call it a day. How many times have we sworn to ourselves – 15 minutes – and found ourselves still scrolling an hour later?

Social media is designed to suck you in, keep you there, sell you something whilst you’re there and either reinforce or subtly replace your beliefs with whatever agenda is being pushed by whichever conglomerate or political party of the day. All the while, feeding off the data you provide them freely and willingly.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Nothing in life is completely free. So, how has social media sustained itself over the years without charging us a cent? The next time you are looking for a refrigerator, and multiple adverts pop up on your Facebook feed, think about what else they know about you?

Even if none of the above bother you, let’s confront another grim reality.

I am of a generation that knew life before social media. I have my memories and some old photos to remind me of those good times. Today’s generation puts everything online. They know no different and no better. Not only are they creating a digital footprint that could come back and bite them in the future, there has also been a steep rise in mental health issues amongst the young. Their inability to distinguish between real and fake, their swallowing everything that they are fed online as gospel, and the constant comparisons they make with their airbrushed peers and their fabulous lives, have led to them finding their own, perfectly normal existences, as sub par. I am not even going to dwell on the online trolling and bullying that seems to be par for the course for the youth of today.

Having said all of the above, here I am, back on social media. Why don’t I just quit it altogether and go live in a cave? Because, even with knowing what I know, I understand its reach, its impact and its ubiquity.

In my month away, I knew I would be coming back to an avalanche of messages. In all probability, I would have annoyed somebody trying to reach me, and possibly missed out on a few social events. Even before re downloading all the apps, I started having low level anxiety about what would confront me once I signed back on.

Logically, I knew that if something was REALLY important, the person/people would find a way to make contact. After all, I was only off social media, I hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet!

What I have come back with is a renewed sense of what is important and what is not. Yes, I will skim through and I will post occasionally, but the moment I find my time being sucked up and my mental wellbeing being compromised, I will switch off again. With that as a mantra, I hope to strike the right work/life/social media balance that will keep me on an even keel. Amen to that!

 

 

The ubiquity of abuse

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I was having coffee with a bunch of ladies I didn’t really know. A common hobby had brought us together and as we met (some, for the first time) and chatted and ordered coffee and cake, the conversation veered off course as it inevitably does when you put women together. This wasn’t a business luncheon, it was very much a ‘getting to know you’ do. Our common hobby had brought us together, but we wanted to know if there was something else, beyond that, which could connect us.

As we talked backgrounds, languages, cultures, careers, husbands and children, we delved into each other’s lives, hesitantly at first, and then boldly, asking forthright questions and receiving some compelling and often hilarious answers. A sisterhood was emerging right there in that little coffee shop.

Interestingly, because we were, in effect, strangers to one another, there was a frankness and a candour to our conversation. There was no previous baggage nor was there any judgement. Each one was free to divulge as much or as little as they wished. Which is perhaps why some shocking truths emerged.

I have thought long and hard about writing this blog post. Am I betraying these ladies’ confidences if I do? Is this a kind of treachery to the very sisterhood I espouse? Am I worthy of being a confidante if I am unable to zip my lip?

However, upon reflection, I decided that yes, I would indeed write about it. No names or details of the women in question will be revealed here. That is not the purpose of this post. The purpose is to highlight the vulnerability of young children and how, it is so important for us as adults – parents and carers, to be vigilant about any possible signs and symptoms of abuse.

70% of the ladies at that table had been subject to some kind of sexual abuse as children. This ranged from an elderly relative using his trustworthy position in the family to inappropriately touch a child, to older children molesting a young girl in their midst, to a cousin leveraging his way into his sister’s affections to try and rape her.

Where were the adults when all this happened? Oblivious, too trusting or incapable of translating the traumatised child’s words and actions as a symptom of their ordeal.

Following on the heels of the #MeToo movement, the awareness of society’s ability to use and discard vulnerable adults has emerged strongly into the forefront. Yet, child abuse is so much more rampant and ubiquitous than anyone of us could have imagined.

All of these women were educated, erudite professionals who had carved out amazing careers and on the outside looked as put together as anyone else. Yet, fragments of their abusive past still lingered, making them feel ‘less than’ and handicapped in ways that even they could not articulate. If our pasts are the foundations to our future, it must have been doubly hard to build their future on the quicksands of trauma, betrayal and abuse.

I have spoken freely about the kind of sexual harassment I encountered growing up in India. Thankfully, because my mother was a very forward thinking individual, she was particularly circumspect about the adults who had access to me as a child. I had been told time and again to tell her if anything inappropriate was said or done to me. I was amongst the lucky few.

How many others had to stay ‘schtum’ because of the joint families they were growing up in wouldn’t tolerate any rent in its fabric, even if the casualty was a child’s innocence? How many parents believed that shrouding the truth or simply disbelieving the child were the only ways forward? How many ‘uncles’ or manservants got away scot-free because the ‘good name’ of the family was far more important than offering the victim love, support, understanding and challenging the perpetrator’s dirty deeds?

Too many.

Which is why it is so important that we talk about childhood sexual abuse. Children have nothing to be ashamed of. They are completely innocent of any wrong doing. It is the sick and depraved adults who choose and groom their victims alongside their families, that need to be brought to task.

I hope there comes a day when that coffee table conversation will not be limited to the tales of abuse suffered by young children, but will go on to elaborate the punishment society accorded to the abuser, and the counselling that was offered to the child to overcome that early trauma. As things stand right now, most children have to find their own coping mechanisms and unlike my ladies, can and do, spiral into self destructive behaviours.

I am not naive enough to believe that we will eradicate child sexual abuse completely. Wherever there is a power imbalance, abuse will exist and thrive. Sadly, there will also always be individuals with a sexual predilection for children. A multi-pronged approach that includes awareness, education, therapy, counselling, stricter laws and most importantly, a gradual erosion of patriarchy, may bring about the much needed change that will protect our children and ensure a safer future for them.

 

 

Guest blog month

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I find people endlessly fascinating. Perhaps, that is why my stories centre around people, their motivations and compulsions. However, one does not always need fiction to experience alternate realities. Another person’s life: his journey, her passion, his hobbies, her escape, are all equally intriguing and provide enough fodder for the imagination.

In the spirit of that sentiment, I once again give my blog over to some very engaging people and their stories. The next few weeks will hopefully bring you some interesting insights into what constitutes an alternate lifestyle, being true to oneself and one’s passions, and how sometimes, the only journey one needs to undertake is the one that reconnects you to yourself.

As a blogger, I am always happy to be approached to showcase another person’s work. If you are a blogger who would like a slightly different audience for a change, or if you just like penning random musings, or if you feel strongly about something and need a platform to voice those thoughts, feel free to reach out to me with a sample of your writing, and maybe I could include you in future guest blog months. Comment below with your details and I will get back to you.

I truly believe that the writing community needs to be supportive and nurturing of one another. Our stories may be universal, but our experiences are deeply personal. In sharing them with our readers we attempt to create a bridge of understanding. However, in sharing them amongst ourselves and on our multiple and varied platforms, we start to understand the nuances and subtleties of that which is removed from our own actuality. In our myriad life realities, there is above all, a desire to understand and be understood.

I hope that the stories and articles that follow will take you on their unique journeys and you will come away with a renewed understanding and empathy for your fellow being.

 

Why reviews matter & what’s stopping you?

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Ok, hands up… this is the first time I’m blogging from the WordPress app on my phone and from a sick bed. I am, currently, feeling extremely sorry for myself. I have been sick for five days and the luxury of lying in bed and binge watching ‘Homeland’ has lost its allure. So, I’ve taken to trawling through reviews of my second book… except there aren’t that many to trawl through.

Is it the law of diminishing returns? Or, can most readers simply not be arsed to put in a review? I’ll come to the third possibility later.

Firstly, please understand, to an Indie writer your reviews are IMPORTANT. You know why? Because, even if you say, “hey, I didn’t really care for this book”, it’s showing that YOU, a real, live person picked up the book and read it. It’s life affirming stuff for someone who has beavered over it for the better part of a year!

Secondly, no one is judging your review. No one is checking your grammar, syntax and flow. You’re not writing the novel, you’re just reviewing it. So, if it’s fear of your own command over the language that’s putting you off, don’t let it. You are helping multiple other readers see what they may or may not like about a particular book.

The third possibility is that you have really, REALLY hated the book. You’ve read a story or two and decided that this book really isn’t for you. In that case, there isn’t much point appealing to you. We are clearly a mismatch in terms of writer and reader, and I wish you well in your reading journey with other, more compatible writers. 😊

Finally, an important lesson I’ve learnt in my Indie journey is that Amazon really doesn’t want friends and family reviewing books. So, my apologies to those of you who took the time to read and review the book, only to find it taken down by the great Zon. Please don’t forget, you can still post that review on Goodreads with no such repercussions.

For the people who have written to me or told me in person how much they loved the second book, please do pass the word on. AND get others to review the book. People who I don’t know and people who will not give me a favourable review because of my extremely charming personality.😉

Right, that’s it for now folks! The sick bed blogging has its benefits but I don’t think I’ll be making it a regular feature anytime soon.

For your copy visit:

getbook.at/Damage