Notes from an almost-empty-nester
Here’s a confession: of late, I’ve been finding it tough to sit down and write my usual kind of longish posts.
And I blame the Gram for it. Instagram, I mean.
Continue reading “Of Instagram, bite-sized thoughts and bloglets”
I realise I haven’t written on the blog for a good two months. Time really slips by so very fast.
The saving grace, though, is that I have been reading and writing and creating on my other blog and on Instagram, so that counts for something. Creating reels has been fun, but it has brought home the fact, with even more clarity, that writing will always be my happy thing.
Continue reading “When a reader dares to write”
As a blogger/writer my biggest challenge has always been consistency. Building writing discipline has proved to be bl**** damn hard, perhaps because I find it hard to prioritise my writing.
Continue reading “C for consistency”
One day, when my son was 6, I watched him as he put on his socks.
He studied each of his toes, decided his big toe made for a good gun and pretended to spray the room with bullets. Then he examined the socks, put them on, studied the dinosaur design, realised they were inside out, so off they came and it began all over again. And then there was the other foot. All this while I stood, one eye on the clock, an ear out for the school bus which would arrive any moment.
Continue reading “On the hunt for ideas”
Once, at a Litfest, my friend and I were attending a session and the speaker asked the audience, ‘How many of you are writers?’ My friend had just signed a contract for her very first book and her hand shot up almost on its own.
I however, found myself hesitating. ‘Am I writer?’ A journalist, yes. An editor, yes. But a writer?
Continue reading “If I stopped being a writer”