Three days back, one out of the two people whom I deem most fit to review what I write commented on a freshly written article as being “Being well-written but inscrutable”. The other one has yet not replied to my email in which I sent him that piece. The other response can be easily anticipated. What Critic-1 (C-1) had to say about the article completely shattered me. It was like saying that your ship is perfectly constructed but it won’t be able to set sail. What good is the perfection of grammar when your sentence does not belong to the domain of human understanding and imagination.
On its very optimistic face-value, I could have inferred that I had gone so deep that it had become hard for such a man to comprehend and appreciate it in a few readings. But the practical me almost brought tears to my eyes which I hopefully did not show. But the moment I left that room, I had decided to quit this pursuit of creative writing. People did not in general like my writing, though they appreciated it for my sake. It was written on their faces.
Who was I writing for? I’d like to believe that the answer to this question is “MYSELF”. However, if it had been for me, why would I crave positive reviews from someone? And why would someone’s negative views bother me so much as to shatter me? “I quit”, I had said innumerable times in my heart. As it appeared, my dream of becoming the best writer in the world was about to stay a dream forever.
….Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools….
These lines popped up in my mind when it was dealing with cyclones. This poem, “If”, by Rudyard Kipling was perhaps the first poem that I had read. And some lines from it are still etched on the walls of my memory.
I think I have to stoop and build’em up. With renewed fervor, positive spirits, and hope, I need to start again. I may be a bit more equipped this time – years of nonsensical writing have at least given me to writing. If expression is still on the other side of the barbed wire, this journey will bring it to my side. I promise, not to C-1, not to C-2, not to you, only to ME. I will not show what I write to anyone in person. I will crave for positive reviews. I’ll just write – on my blog – to myself and to an unidentifiable crowd that dwells on the other side of my screen and none of whom I personally know.
I’ll write shit at first. No doubts. But there won’t be a stagnation. I’ll evolve – momentarily for good or for bad, but – ultimately only for good.