I was at the Sacramento airport one bleak winter morning trudging up the escalator managing several scraps of paper in my two hands (ticket, baggage tag, ID to name a few) while balancing my roller-board with my elbow on the moving surface.
I am not a morning person from any angle and I always find early morning flights depressing, more so if they are preceded by long commutes in shuttles and long waits in the dark when you inevitably turn out the first passenger to be picked up by a van at 4 am.
So needless to say, I was yet to appreciate the beauty of the morning.
Rupa is sixteen years old. Rupa has a lot of passion for life. Rupa thinks she is a writer. Rupa keeps a pocket book handy at all times in case her inspirations escape from the leaky recesses of her brain and she fails to catch them in flight.
So Rupa has been scribbling for a while, mostly about love, passion, roses. At social gatherings, her parents often urge her to read out her poetry. It’s probably her imagination but she’s been noticing a lot of people heading towards the food or feeling suddenly thirsty the moment her parents mention her most recent inspired moments. Continue reading How to fail better at writing (Part 1)→
Have you ever been in a situation from which you cannot see a way out? Sort of like Cinderella cleaning chimney soot and cleaning chimney soot and cleaning chimney soot all day waiting for either the fairy godmother or prince charming or least of all one of the seven dwarfs to materialize out of thin air?
None of the seven dwarfs arrive of course because you’ve mixed up stories. You are left staring at your sooty hands, thinking of all the chimney cleanings the next day, and the next day, and the next day. Besides, every time you’re done cleaning you have the wicked stepmom come over and take credit for the shiny grate and the spotless floor.
“Seriously, you should listen to me,” says me. “I am the most brilliant person I know.”
I know that my ideas must be good.
I should know. I listen to myself all day.
I make sure I catch ’em ideas before they escape. ‘Em ideas arise from one end of the brain and I catch ’em before they reach the other. I’ve become quite sly. I bait ’em ideas with a few things–taking a walk, observing people, just talking to myself.
Get them crystallized before they diffuse. That’s the trick. They’re volatile, they are.