Literary Musings

Well, of course the fact that I blog must give you a fair sense of the fact that I enjoy writing. Or more precisely, words. How this came about, I cannot fathom, but I guess it’s suffice to say that I hoard words, and dust them out once in a while and throw them about in my head when the creative juices are on a high. It’s a thrill to see the words form a picture and develop into something more than mere symbols on a page.

I still quite distinctly remember the first story I ever ‘wrote’; in quotes because it was mostly little blocks of scrawly art and a kid’s illegible sentences beneath it. It was obviously directly influenced by what I had read.  As a five year old, of course, it had its fair share of princesses. But the outline of the story was thus:

Princess A and Princess B were best friends who lived in a kingdom near Bangalore. But they both had only blue coloured clothes. (I think this could be because I kept losing my crayons, and had only blue at that point.) They decided to go on an adventure and so climbed a horse. But a crocodile came from the river and ate the horses legs, so it died. A & B killed the crocodile with their glass slippers (Cinderella, much?!) And in doing so, the dead crocodile grants them a wish and they live happily ever after.

…Yeah. It’s been a long way from that. I quite possibly lost that piece of writing when we shifted from Bangalore to Chennai, but I’ve hoping against the oddities that I do find it. And perhaps frame it and put it up on a wall.

But every once in a while, the creativity high compels me to write something. To take hold of words and send them in a spiraling down a tunnel and order them about. And my next project is going to be NaPoWriMo ’13.

I’ve done NaPo once (and won) and I absolutely loved it! And, since I’m hoping to be quite free this April, I am most definitely attempting NaPo again. Here’s to more words and fun. I might try a theme this year, but don’t expect me to stick to it. I’m not much of a poet.

And to end with a quote :

“Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating …but there are other ways to understanding.”

– Patrick Rothfuss in Kingkiller Chronicles

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