Sajal Choudhary

I tell stories

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Tag: writing (page 1 of 5)

Why I feel like an impostor at times

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I think the problems began the day I paid for a domain, the blog was no longer going to be at “sajalchoudhary.wordpress.com”, I had paid to have the “wordpress” removed. And that changed things. This was not just going to be an interest any more, I was a writer now. I even changed up my bio to reflect the change. I also cooked up a facebook page to reinforce the same. That page incidentally has around hundred likes now, not that I have any clue as to how the people who got there, got there..!

Yesterday, I read a post on Medium. I do not remember exactly what the whole of it was about, nor do I have a link to it, but I remember the end. In essence, the author said, that she’d love to see more bloggers out there, instead of all the essay-writing-writers that she inevitably does. She talked about the progression of the writer, from doing a couple of years of blogging, to an essay a week eventually. She rued the absence of good bloggers. Good, funny bloggers.

The “funny” part stayed. Why? Read on, I guess.

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Fiction takes time

Fiction takes time.

Anything from a short story to a novel, a thousand word something to a hundred thousand word something. It all takes time, effort, and patience. That’s the beauty of fiction. You sit down, and write. At the beginning, the fire drives you, the joy of having stumbled upon something new. Then, comes the middle, the muddy, murky middle. Most stories are lost here, left by the writer, to die slow, painful deaths. And then, at the end, the story, which was not making any sense whatsoever, till this point, suddenly starts making sense. You are able to fill in the blanks, see the light at the end of the long, dark, proverbial tunnel!

That, is also the sad part about writing fiction. Unless it reaches completion, there is nothing to show for the effort.

And I really don’t know why I should give a fuck about it!

Off to write some fiction..!

What is a blog?

What is a blog

Yesterday was the second day in a row, when I was ridiculed for the stuff I had put up on the blog. Okay, maybe ridiculed is not the best word to describe what happened. Let’s see. I had to go through some pretty harsh criticism, for the things I had said, the things that I had written, the things that I had posted here.

It got to me. So much so, that I had to go through my earlier posts, only to look at how I used to do things. The difference. In case you are wondering if I found something, the answer to that is a big resounding: “NO”.

Maybe not as resounding as I’d like you to believe. Anyway.

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Here’s how I plan to beat my laziness

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For the past three days, Friday included, I have been making excuses.

I’m tired.

There’s no time left to do anything today.

I should start off with fresh resolve in the new week, starting Monday.

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Life, Death & Priorities

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There was a moment, between when I had picked up my luggage, and when I began looking for a cab, that I felt this sense of loss, this sadness. I had just returned from one of the four or so trips I need in a year to function. I was back in the city. I was home. And yet, I could not shake this feeling of entrapment!

This happened this past Sunday. And a moment was all I had, to feel anything, as the rest of the time was spent trying to catch the last metro before it left the exchange station, which happened a couple of times during the journey.

There were no cabs. And as for Uber, it has these surges!

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Why places matter in a story

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Decisions, decisions…!

So my sister left yesterday.

It was raining as I stood there in the midst of in the middle of blaring car horns, and dark skies. It rained later that day. This was Thursday. Today is Friday. It rained today as well.

I’m not sure any of that detail matters.

Something else happened yesterday as well. Something related to writing, and storytelling in general, and the book in particular. I finished the first draft a little while back, and since then, I haven’t managed much fiction. I took a break, hoping that I would be able to start work on some short stories, but I couldn’t. And so, a month or so after I had finished the draft, I began reading it, noting the good, the bad, the things that needed to be changed.

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Thoughts on self-hosting

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I was away for most of this week. Among other things, what kept me busy, was the thought of self-hosting my blog. I was thinking, reading, and researching.

As of now, all that I own is the domain name ‘sajalchoudhary.com’. The blog is hosted upon wordpress.com, the commercial identity, not the free open-source software, it is built upon.

This past week was about that.

I am talking about it, here, now, because among other things, it was the major reason why I was away from the blog. Not being able to actually write anything.

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What does it take to be a writer?

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It can be pretty damning, to promise something, and not follow up on it, just a day later.

I did that, yesterday. But maybe, the promise was taking things a little too far.

That was yesterday though. Today, is a new day, and today, I want to talk about what being a writer is all about. Like always, something happened which has prompted this line of thought. And like always there’s a story.

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Post a day!

For a long time, I held this belief that I could not write each day. I could not get myself to sit in front of a computer, and type. I mean, there was no time. Having a day job meant, not having the time one has by default otherwise. Having a day job meant that I had, in all, hardly an hour to write each day.

I still have that day job.

But, something else happened this past month. There was something else too, but I’ve already written about it, and it wasn’t as much of a force in this case, as the activity of this past month was.

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Why standing still is scary

Standing still

Standing still

There is this weird state that I am in, right now.

I think, I have overdone, overstayed my welcome rest, respite, from writing, and everything else. I had managed to finish the first draft, a couple of weeks back. I wrote about it. It was after all an event quite unlike another. It was a first. And no matter how bad it is, the first one is the first one. So, I had written about it the next day, and then, in my mind, I had decided that I will take a week long break. Clear my head, so to say. The first week slipped away, like sand through the fingers. The week after that though, was not so fluid. It dragged on.

And now, that I wish to describe it, the only word that comes to my head is ‘uneasy’. That’s how I was feeling. Uneasy.

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