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She just crept up inside my thoughts and then refused to leave.
Hi. I am writer. I have a muse. She is a broken, escapist. She is a runaway who has always settled for the easiest way out of any difficult situation in her life. I won’t tell you her name, because even if I did, she is not someone you have heard about. She is not famous, she is not extraordinary. She is fictional, and she is a woman who exists only in my head.
The funny thing about my muse is she doesn’t inspire me to write. Often, I end up not writing anything for days because of her.
Then why I chose her, you ask. I did not. She just crept up inside my thoughts and then refused to leave.
When I first saw her through the fog of my thoughts, she was just an apparition. A shadow sitting in a train compartment. With time she has become more real. Now I know that when she was eight she had a huge fight with her brother over eating mangoes. That when she was twelve she thought she could become a singer. That when she was thirteen she no longer wanted to become a singer. That after that she never wanted to become anything. Since then she had become pretty much inconsequential. Until one day she crept up in my thoughts, and gradually began bugging me into writing her story.
But you said your muse didn’t let you write, you say. I stand my ground. She doesn’t.
While she wants me to write her story, she doesn’t tell me her story. I ask her and she evades my questions. Once in a while she mumbles something about her life and I take note. I have to be alert constantly, lest I miss any of her mumblings.
Despite her reluctance to share any information, she won’t stop bugging me. So much so, that I can’t write about anyone else until I finish writing her story, and that’s going to take some time.
So, that’s about me. What’s your story?
Image via Pixabay
I am a writer who loves to daydream about food and has her nose in books. I can give amazing relationship advice, bad at following one though. You may detect a hint of sarcasm in read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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