I have started writing another short story. I had an idea sitting around in my head for quite some time now. It came to me about six months back, and when I tried to recall this idea a couple of days back, I was surprised that instead of having disappeared, it had taken a more concrete shape in my mind. I am able to finally finish the story in my head which is a great thing because normally the most difficult thing I struggle with is the ending. The beginning of many ideas come to me straight out of the blue, the middle comes with a sputter, and my ideas run dry when I start trying to imagine the ending. It’s always like this. Yesterday, I was watching Stephen King’s interview on YouTube and he said (roughly, not exactly), “A good story stays with you even after a long time when it first comes to you, you don’t need to jot it down. It’s like you sift it and all the small ideas fall away and the big ones stay with you”. So, when I tried to recall this story, I realized I am able to finally round it up with more or less a good ending. I have divided it into several chapters for now. I intend it to be about 10,000 words. That’s too lengthy, I know. Later on, when I finish the first draft and start editing for the second I will crop it up to a shorter work. I intend to publish it on several online platforms to get some reviews and gain confidence. Meanwhile, I will plod on to the second story I have in my mind whose ending I haven’t started thinking about yet, but I’m sure it will come to me all right. There is no time to waste because one can become a good artist only when one “produces copious amount of creative work”.
I read a short story by J.R.R Tolkien today, Leaf by Niggle. From the beginning, I could relate to it as an artist-in-struggle. The work and responsibilities of real life do come in the way for you to think out and work clearly towards your creative pursuits. And, yet, you can’t do anything about it because real-life works are important and you can’t, no matter how hard you try, relinquish them. Also, the artistic work you are pursuing, no matter the medium (painting, sketching, writing, photography etc), is, first of all, the most important thing to you and you only. You are working for yourself, to satisfy your inner artist, giving an expression to your thoughts and ideas. Others might not appreciate it. They might not understand your creative pursuits, your desire for expressions. Only when you work on many things, that you end up producing something that others start finding a perspective for as well. It might become useful to them too, helpful for them in a way, they might relate to it, understand it and appreciate your work. But, that is the second phase that may or may not come for every artist. The first phase rings with truth for every artist: working for yourself. And, if you become really good at what you are doing, you might reach the final phase: making your artistic pursuits a profession, which again, many reaches, many don’t. But, just because one can’t reach second and third phase doesn’t mean they should not start at all. If one has an inkling for expression, find a medium and go for it. This is what I found all about in a nutshell, although it has much deeper meaning than that too, of course.
There is one poem by Mary Oliver I keep reading often these days to keep myself going when I feel demotivated to work on anything, and I’d like to end this post with it:
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.”