Sajal Choudhary

I tell stories

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Category: on writing (page 2 of 4)

Why persistence matters


The persistent ant!

Something happened yesterday. Something interesting. But before I tell you what that thing was.., like always, here’s a little back story.

I was drained, as I got home yesterday. Most of the day was spent outside, at an amusement park, in the lovely company of my little sister, and mum. We had dinner afterwards, and by the time I got back home, which was sometime around nine thirty, I had a little over half an hour to get the weekly post in, with me being an early to bed, early to rise sort of person.

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On writing : the numbers


word count v/s date : courtesy of the infamous sheet, and google

When I had begun here originally, I had imagined this to be a place where I would talk mostly about writing, and then, as an add-on, a little bit of other stuff. I mean all you have to do is hover the mouse pointer over the blog menu, and you see “on writing” and “everything else” as the prominent sub-items displayed there. That also reminds me that I need to revisit the menus, given the times I’m living in, the idea of putting videos out there does not make much sense now. I’m a writer for god’s sake! Or maybe I will do that once I’ve reached the 100 post mark. But getting back to the point of this paragraph, I was supposed to be writing mostly about writing, and it made sense, as the past had shown me, that that’s where I got most of my likes and follows from.

So, when I clicked on the “On writing” sub-item, this Wednesday, after posting my latest article, I realized that my last post on writing was on December sixth, after I had reached fifty posts here. That’s almost a couple of months gone without writing about the thing that I am supposed to be writing about.


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Fifty plus one


I drew that!

I reached a milestone with my last post here. It was my fiftieth post on this blog, and I felt I had to write about that; to commensurate it. It is important after all, to celebrate the big, and the small.

Fifty is not that big a number if you look at it that ways. It’s not a five thousand; or a five hundred thousand. That would be a number!

It is a beginning of sorts.

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On Honesty, Part-II


Okay, so I messed up this weekend.

See, it was my birthday, and a couple of other things, which left me with little to no time to write something. I know that I should have planned ahead, but that’s not me. And that is bad, evidently, as I have absolutely zero idea of what to write about. Of course there’s the list of the ideas, but there’s a reason why they are in a list, and not on paper.

There was this post I read today, about Adele; about how she’s making people buy her music, instead of streaming it. In it, the writer talks about her being honest about who she is. I think that goes for all of us artists out here.

And I consider myself to be one!

Honesty is important for us. Honesty of both sorts.

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On Honesty


It was easier this time around; thinking about the thing to write about this week. It happened naturally enough; you see I had just finished writing the eleventh chapter. And so, it was quite clear that I was going back to writing about writing.

Also, I’m using a lot of these ‘And so’s. Too many for my liking.

It was this Wednesday that I felt I had moved enough that the chapter could end here. I might eventually feel otherwise, but right now, it felt right; and so, I stopped. Two things happened as I put the proverbial pen down. First, I remembered how good it felt to finish something, maybe that’s why we have chapters, to satiate ourselves. Second, and more importantly, I realized how easy it was to write, when you were writing.

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There are some books, which when you’ve finished reading, make you want to write all that much more!
They remind why is it exactly that you are doing what you are doing!
Writing books, is not a pleasant process!

Fahrenheit 451 was one such book. It was art. It was beautiful.

The idea of being a writer

Wish I had clicked a picture!

Wish I had clicked a picture!

I am in love with the idea of being a writer, the image.

The idea of sitting on a table overlooking a giant window. The view outside the window keeps changing, but the table, and the chair, and the image of a writer, they stay.

As I said, I am in love with the idea of being a writer.

I am not entirely sure, who the first one was, but over time, there has been this one sentence, this statement, going around in my world. It says this:

Nobody pays for the idea. Ideas are abundant; actions, few.

Okay, I said it.

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I wrote that!

I wrote that!

It was on the first of July that I wrote this post.

The first of July, was some eleven days in the past.

Now, at that point in time, I was at some ninety-four days from my intended deadline for this project. Also I was on the eighth chapter in the book. Something, or rather, some place I was at, since the past couple of months, or something of that order. I say that, because it really was inconsequential. See, when I marked a date in the calendar, saying I’m going to ship this book on the date, then, by that action alone, I had made sure that anything I did before this did not matter; in a way.

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Why I decided to set a shipping date for my book

Well, I did say I might decide to explain what this was all about. So, here it goes.


Now, before I begin, I must say this, the paper wasn’t really working for me. So, I tore it off, and made a digital copy. With that out of the  way, I guess we can move forward.

See, here’s the story.

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Let’s sail!


I’ll meet you on the other side.

Perhaps, I’ll explain this