How can I call myself a writer, especially, when I am not a published writer; except for a short story in a newspaper, publish ages ago that caught attention of absolutely no one. I am almost thirty now, I never trained to be a writer. Then how did I find myself into writing business―one would ask. I am doing pretty well as a professional artist ,then why switch to this different and difficult role prior to and after my day job.
Why ―if I’m in the right mind― did I think of becoming a writer?
Well, here’s the tale. There was this bookshelf in my house, and through its glass top could be seen hundreds of books of classic authors; Shakespeare, Chaucer, Hemingway, Tolstoy, etc. Beautiful books, wonderful books― my mother’s collection.

Did I read them at all?
No! I read none.
Back then, I found it difficult to read, yet was always drawn to books and was fascinated by this book shelf. I wanted to buy books even when I knew I will abandon them mid way, because of how difficult it was for me to read and make sense of the words. Yet whenever I saw the books in that fascinating old bookshelf, I wondered how the writers created those imaginary world, worlds with character’s, who interacted with each other, had their own personality and made sense of the world they were placed in. How incredibly smart could those Authors would have been who wrote those books. How awesome would it be to be one myself.

Fascination with this book shelf caused me to believe that I will be an author of novels some day.
Then what’s the point of this blog?
The point is, I am penning down a book. It is a project dear to me and I don’t want to abandon this project and I don’t want resistance to grab me by my throat, slam me to the ground and whisper in my ears “ You have always been a failure and you will continue to be one.”
I want to succeed; not to be rich or famous but in being a published author. With this blog, I want to be answerable to whomsoever cares to read what I write. I want to connect to people, entertain them and learn from them.  Maybe even give them something that enriches them, soothes them, grips them, unnerves them and makes them think. If people have expectations of me, I know I will sit down to write. That is why I started this blog.

But why do I write?
I write for the fun of writing. I write because deep down I feel I was carved for it. I write because I have an imagination, that only I have.
I write with the hope that someday a novel by me will sit on some shelf of a house and a child will look at it and hope to be a writer one day.

Therefore, I write and I am a Writer.


by Agastya

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