I have this sudden and impulsive urge to get up, throw my hands up in the air and scream ‘Dobby is Freeeeee!!’ in the highest pitch that my vocal chords might hit.
Well, not exactly, but you get the idea.
All my exams are done, and I feel strangely relieved.
I’ve never been a full time writer. College always got in the way, and I had a very hectic time balancing my academics with my writing, and boy, was it stressful!
I wrote my first novel, Bride of the Battalions, during what I’d like to call ‘Stolen Moments.’ The first draft of the manuscript was composed during those few spare minutes in class, at lunch break, and mostly during the lab hours, where I’d take the computer that’s next to the window and type it out for three hours together, while my batch mates (and best friends) were kind enough to let me work in my zone whilst they worked on fixing the bugs in our MATLAB project.
The final year of college was probably the phase of my life that I have no proper memory of.
I was always at the corner of the room, completely lost in the world of Mathurapuri, scratching my pen away on the journal that I kept or I’d be missing in my spot, and my friends would later find me in the later find me tucked away at my favourite spot in the lab, glued to computer (or my laptop) and typing away in a frenzy.
It still feels like a hazy dream. I do not know how I managed to complete it.
I’ve always wanted to write a novel, right from when I as seven, but I have never been able to get past a few pages. But his time,I actually finished. At 21, I finally managed to finish. I did not really plan for this seriously, and it was out of sheer stubbornness that I worked on it, and I now have a two hundred page manuscript with me, that has the potential to be a book.
Wow. I’m sure the seven year old me would be extremely happy.
For, somewhere along the years, I almost forgot this dream and stopped writing for several years. I took it up seriously again when I was 19, and life seems to have a beautiful meaning to it ever since.
Unlike my short stories, I never had a proper routine or a dedicated amount of time every week when I sat down and focussed on writing. My short stories were all planned and I worked on them every Sunday, after lunch and I finished most of them within hour of each sitting. I pampered each and every story, and gave my complete attention, love and focus attention while I was working on each one of them.
The novel, however, was different.
It was the child that I could never properly attend to. It was the baby that I had so hastily raised, in the stolen moments I could grab at college or at home, while I was attending to various other things in my life. And yet, I cannot believe how it turned out to be a wonderful piece that’s so close to my heart.
I now have almost fifty days of vacation.
It’s now time to see if I can really commit to being a full time writer, or if I was just making excuses all along. Now would be the time to see if I can actually discipline myself into writing,9 to 5. It’s time to see if I can be trusted with my laptop and see if I actually write or if I’m being hung up on Facebook or YouTube or Twitter all day. I have no Boss. I have no deadlines. My parents are not pushing me to complete this task (Actually they’d be relieved if I take a break from obsessing over writing.)
Now would be the time to make an ultimate test on my self control and discipline.
After all, the only thing that sets wanna-be-writers from the professionals is the the former talk about writing, dream about writing, and plan about writing, while its the professional who SITS DOWN AND WRITES.
As for the status my manuscript, I’ve sent the first draft to an agency. They told me they do not accept multiple submissions, so I have to wait to get a reply from their side (which would take about 4 weeks they say), before moving on with other publishers.
My plans for this are as follows: To pause all the new projects and extensively revise my finished manuscript. I want Bride Of The Battalions to be the best of what it can be. I am planning on spending the entire week revising, and editing the content. I have this tiny guilt that’s lingering at a dark corner of my heart that tells me this story could be better.
Well, you know what they about revision.
Write Drunk. Edit Sober
And Sober it shall be, all week long.
I’ll let you know next Wednesday how the editing went, and if by any stroke of luck, I get an agent or publisher’s attention.
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