That is exactly what I want to do.... right here.... write here! So bear with me...contradict me... agree with me... pamper me... cos' I plan to be 'Write here' !
The Mirage in a Writer's Life
Posted 4th June 2008 at 10:57 PM by twinsmom
Once the newspaper had a very interesting piece of news for me. It was about a Bangladeshi who had found a novel way of ensuring peace and quiet for himself. Salim Hussain Gaus, a carpenter and writer in the making, had found an innovative way of avoiding company by building himself a wooden platform atop a….palm tree! The 25 year old had built the platform and a winch operated by a pulley to haul himself up to a height of 30 metres, where he spent a good part of the day reading and writing. Quite creative, wasn’t he?
Well… writers have been accused of not coming down from their ivory towers and Gaus’ innovative way of avoiding company only vindicates the theory of ivory towers. Probably, it is calmer up there and peaceful enough to pursue one’s literary pursuits.
If Wordsworth is to be believed, poetry is ‘the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings from emotions recollected in tranquility.’ In fact, not just poetry, any kind of creative writing is. ‘Tranquility’ is the operable word here. The powerful feelings overflowing spontaneously while one tries to write are... murderous ones! Especially, in a scenario like the following:
A bulb flashes in the creative room of your brain, illuminating for the fraction of a second, a thread of an idea you feel you can work on. Before it gets lost in the labyrinth-like archives of your brain, you want to pen it down. So you begin feverishly capturing that flash of genius onto hardcopy.
‘Rrrrrring!’ goes the nasally mechanical or mechanically nasal tone of the telephone.
You feel like giving Alexander Graham Bell a piece of your distraught mind for inventing the confounded contraption. You ignore the ring which makes it increase its decibel level to such a level that your ‘ starting its spontaneous overflow’ idea is gettng drowned in the noise. You pause, putting your mind on hold and pick up the call…only to listen to the dead tone.
Gratefully you return to penning down the leftover scraps from memory…and it starts ringing again. Ok, you think… let me get this over with. It is a distant relative who wants you to catch upon her life in the past half year. You listen , you grunt, humph, smile audibly…anything except click your tongue in impatience…which is actually what you want to do. Finally, the caller gets another call, so decides to ring up.
You get back to the ‘spontaneous overflow’ which is reduced to a pathetic trickle! Still many a mickle makes a muckle and all that jazz…and you try to work on that trickle…Slowly the trickle becomes a flow and you sigh satisfied…when the doorbell rings!
It is the acquaintance you met last month in some get- together and you had invited casually to look you up! "I was just passing by. Are you busy?"
Busy? Me? No…! Not at this time of daybreak…By the time you finish up acting the friendly host - plastic smiles, aching cheeks et al., the spontaneous overflow has vanished… lost like the files in the government departments.
And they accuse us of creating ivory towers…what we need are Isolation Wards where we can work on that ‘spontaneous overflow’ because there’s no tranquility worth writing home about!
If a two-bit blogger like me can feel so strongly, just imagine what the Wordsworths, Conan Doyles and Dan Browns would have felt… Janaab, I rest my case!
No wonder, Gausbhai is forced to winch himself up… Naturally, there’s no hullabaloo up the palm tree…and the view of the world is more benign from up there! Lucky Salim Hussain Ghaus! Our watch man keeps the terrace door locked…sigh!
Well… writers have been accused of not coming down from their ivory towers and Gaus’ innovative way of avoiding company only vindicates the theory of ivory towers. Probably, it is calmer up there and peaceful enough to pursue one’s literary pursuits.
If Wordsworth is to be believed, poetry is ‘the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings from emotions recollected in tranquility.’ In fact, not just poetry, any kind of creative writing is. ‘Tranquility’ is the operable word here. The powerful feelings overflowing spontaneously while one tries to write are... murderous ones! Especially, in a scenario like the following:
A bulb flashes in the creative room of your brain, illuminating for the fraction of a second, a thread of an idea you feel you can work on. Before it gets lost in the labyrinth-like archives of your brain, you want to pen it down. So you begin feverishly capturing that flash of genius onto hardcopy.
‘Rrrrrring!’ goes the nasally mechanical or mechanically nasal tone of the telephone.
You feel like giving Alexander Graham Bell a piece of your distraught mind for inventing the confounded contraption. You ignore the ring which makes it increase its decibel level to such a level that your ‘ starting its spontaneous overflow’ idea is gettng drowned in the noise. You pause, putting your mind on hold and pick up the call…only to listen to the dead tone.
Gratefully you return to penning down the leftover scraps from memory…and it starts ringing again. Ok, you think… let me get this over with. It is a distant relative who wants you to catch upon her life in the past half year. You listen , you grunt, humph, smile audibly…anything except click your tongue in impatience…which is actually what you want to do. Finally, the caller gets another call, so decides to ring up.
You get back to the ‘spontaneous overflow’ which is reduced to a pathetic trickle! Still many a mickle makes a muckle and all that jazz…and you try to work on that trickle…Slowly the trickle becomes a flow and you sigh satisfied…when the doorbell rings!
It is the acquaintance you met last month in some get- together and you had invited casually to look you up! "I was just passing by. Are you busy?"
Busy? Me? No…! Not at this time of daybreak…By the time you finish up acting the friendly host - plastic smiles, aching cheeks et al., the spontaneous overflow has vanished… lost like the files in the government departments.
And they accuse us of creating ivory towers…what we need are Isolation Wards where we can work on that ‘spontaneous overflow’ because there’s no tranquility worth writing home about!
If a two-bit blogger like me can feel so strongly, just imagine what the Wordsworths, Conan Doyles and Dan Browns would have felt… Janaab, I rest my case!
No wonder, Gausbhai is forced to winch himself up… Naturally, there’s no hullabaloo up the palm tree…and the view of the world is more benign from up there! Lucky Salim Hussain Ghaus! Our watch man keeps the terrace door locked…sigh!
Total Comments 6
Comments
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Hi,
I'm also a writer. and i so agree with u. it is so exasperating when you are middle of a creative spurt and the phone rings...or something else that demands your immediate attention. it has happened to me so many time that now when i'm writing that's important, i take the phone off the hook and mute the mobile.
but i can't do that too often as I'm a mother to a 10 year old and whilst he is out of home, i feel anxious turning off my phone. what if there's an emergency and my son is trying to reach me??
y r we moms always so paranoid? anyway i totally agree with you.
so what kind of writing do u do?
kaybeePosted 5th June 2008 at 09:58 AM by kaybee
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Dear twinsmom,
Brilliant piece you have here !
Seems like you did get to beat Mr Bell's " confounded contraption" after all ! How else did this literary creation appear on our monitor screens for us to read and chuckle and enjoy ? !!
I wonder how many of us really get to luxuriate in the Wordswothian concept of recellecting emotions in tranquility to churn out our thoughts and put them on paper or hammer away at our keyboards.The famous J.K.Rowling's magnum opus was written from her kitchen table we hear.Credit has to be given to the fact that inspite of distractions or interruptions we get to read great writings here at IL from such splendid writers like you.
Enjoyed your delightful piece immensely.
warm regards
PAULINAPosted 5th June 2008 at 12:20 PM by Paulina -
Dear twinsmom,
I really enjoyed your post, I giggled through the phone interruption lines...! [:)] And guess what, while totally into your post, my phone rang and its like "grrrrr..." ! Just like your thoughts while trying to write!
Do keep writing...
RanganayakiPosted 5th June 2008 at 06:26 PM by Ranganayaki -
Hi Ranganayaki,
( what a beautiful name... I may borrow it for one of my heroines!) The contraption called phone has the greatest knack for ringing at the oddest or the most inconvenient of times!Posted 16th June 2008 at 06:24 AM by twinsmom - Thank you Paulina.
Pssst! If only there's some way I can borrow that dining table of J.K. Rowling..... SIGH! So I churn out my stuff while she rolls in billions...thanks to an inspiring table... ( Sour grapes...eh? Hahahah What can mere mortals like me do before that Wordspinning goddess!)Posted 16th June 2008 at 06:27 AM by twinsmom
