Poornima Manco

Author

writers block

A pause, and then…

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All has been quiet on the blogging front for me. I wish I could say that I have dedicated this time to some serious writing. On the contrary, I have done very little writing at all. Have trotted out an entry for a Flash fiction contest, which is new territory for me, so am interested to see how that fares.

My overriding problem right now is that I have a burgeoning story that I have no inclination to complete. The very same one that I started out, directionless, and plotless to be precise. Conditions have not improved since.

I am still clueless as to where this meandering tale is headed, and whether I even intend to see it to its destination.

I try not to do things by half measures, and am a terrible perfectionist when it comes to completing tasks. Equally though, I am a terrible procrastinator when the said tasks are not to my liking.

So, would it be so bad to abandon this story at the midway point? At the rate I am going, I am not likely to make the deadline anyway. Then, why the guilt?

As for those of you who are wondering why there seem to be more thoughts and musings than stories of late, I will be posting a story soon.

Watch this space.

Is it worth it?

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I was in the middle of writing a story when I found out about the demise of a family member. That was nearly two weeks ago. Since then, I have been unable to return to that story, even with a submission deadline looming.

I could ascribe it to writer’s block. Or being far too busy, or far too grief stricken. But underneath that unwillingness to carry on writing, lies quite another beast. One that I find myself unable to name.

Is it doubt? All writers have their fair share of that. Is it ennui? There is certainly some of that within me, right now . But the overriding feeling is one of hopelessness. Why am I writing? What is the purpose here?Is anyone even reading what I write? And what do I hope to accomplish with my half baked stories and strange ramblings? Do I expect to become some kind of best selling novelist at my ripe age? Haha to that.

All human beings want to leave some kind of a mark on the world. Whether it is in the form of art or music or progeny or a business venture, there is always a yearning to be remembered. In the end, however, how many of us really are?

Death is a great leveller.

Right now, it is making me question all that I have felt was important or worthwhile. Will I come out the other end still writing? Only time will tell.