The writing life is a crazy thing. I can’t speak for others, but for me, I’m constantly writing, if only in my own head. Each person I meet, each place I go to, becomes a what if, and within minutes of being left alone, I begin wool-gathering, spinning yarns. Before I started on the writing life, it used to be an embarrassing trait. These days, I can explain it away. Somewhat.
The last few weeks have been a tad demented, what with attending the UEA workshop in Kolkata, with stalwart authors as workshop tutors (the professorial, encyclopedic, deadpan Amit Chaudhuri, the subtle, brilliant Romesh Gunesekara) and an overwhelming talent in terms of peers.
In the middle of some heavy-duty critiquing, and taking in the shabbily-beautifulcity, I finished the Nanowrimo: 50,000 words that don’t seem entirely headed for the waste-basket. So the writing life has been cranking along– other than the first two weeks of December: family issues, illnesses, weddings, you name it. But things should look up now.
I’ll soon start the interview of authors/ publishing professionals again. I have a few lined up that I need to publish. My apologies to everyone I haven’t visited in the meanwhile. I shall make up for it in the coming weeks.
What about you? How are you and how have you been? If you’re a writer, how do you fit in regular living and crises into the writing life? If you don’t write, tell me all about your challenges and triumphs in the past weeks.
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