by Vani Viswanathan
In the six years that we’ve been running Spark, there are many times when, after multiple rounds of edits, follow-ups and negotiations (and some unfortunately-not-very-polite emails from contributors), we, the editors, are stuck on what to write.
Often, we gauge the trend of contributions by mid-month and decide whether we should “balance” the issue with fiction, non-fiction or poetry. This often helps us direct our energies to a particular form of writing, helping in some way cut short the annoying process of figuring out what to write. Sometimes we double up as photographers or “artists” and dig out photographs from long ago, sketches and doodles.
Irrespective of – or despite – these decisions, we often draw a blank, fall prey to the disappointing “writer’s block”. Words just don’t come out, and even when they do, we aren’t quite happy with them. We go through agonizing moments of indecision: does that story idea have potential, is that childhood memory worth capturing in a non-fiction piece, or (in my case, as a dunce when it comes to poetry), can it magically be translated into verse?
I especially find excruciating those moments of opening a blank document on Word, sitting and waiting for one of those seeds of fiction or non-fiction to sprout into life. I play music on loop – any song that catches the mood of the moment, be it somber, hopeful or peppy – to try to keep distractions to a minimum and focus on the ideas.
Many a time, these seeds show much promise, only to sputter, peter out and die midway. I gnash my teeth at that completely unconvincing turn in the plot. Other times, I go through the entire piece as if it were a ritual, finish it and stare at the words with disgust. I spend minutes or even a few distracted hours rethinking the completely unconvincing ending that screams “Yup, she couldn’t wait to get done with this!”
But oh, there are for sure those magical moments when a thought just grows beautifully. I sit at the laptop and type away, my fingers tracing letters as if by divine intervention, each word effortlessly flowing into the next. Those articles are special, and I remember them years down the line, as I do those special non-fiction pieces and wonderful short stories on my blog from all those years ago. Those are the times I beam with quiet pride and scroll up and down the Spark home page to find my article and re-read it. I smile and wonder how I thought up that fascinating set of words to convey a particular emotion.
Today, as I struggle with words, with Hans Zimmer’s instrumental ‘Roxanne’ from Megamind for company (on loop for the 34th time), I wonder which category of writing this piece falls into. It’s hard to write, all right, but writing about writing somehow feels therapeutic, courageous even. As if I’m challenging my brain to come up with something like it has thousands of times before. I wonder how well I can wrap up a piece that is scattered with such random thoughts on writing, but decide to do myself the favour, for once, to not force an unnatural close to free-flowing thoughts.
I do part with this, though: the pleasure of being a writer comes from having an audience that appreciates the writing for whatever it helps them feel. Thank you for reading not just what I write, but also the many others who have readily gifted their words and ideas to Spark over the last six years. We need you as much as ever as we march along!
