I am frustrated as my mind chatters unconsciously creating questions and problems in my mind’s arena before I pick my writing tools.
The moment I pick my writing tool, in my case my laptop, I enter a parallel universe, one that is inhabited by my characters. The voices I hear are that of them. The story I need to tell is their story. All I feel and do are according to their instructions. It is as if I am not the one who is writing, but another being who has come near me telling me to write giving the exact words and sequences in which they should come out on paper. I am in a Zen state; nothing interests me other than what I want to write. The only thing I am conscious about is the writing process. The voices in my head which were creating a ruckus earlier have fallen silent. I can hear only the clear voices of my characters. I don’t consciously heed to grammar or spelling. What I feel are their emotions, their dreams, and their world.
I am fully attentive to whatever the characters are trying to say. I am not worried about the starting the middle or the end. All I want is to hear is what is happening at that moment and record it. I am aware of their environment like I am there. I can hear the crickets chattering in the silence of the night while one of them leans on his balcony pondering over his life. I can feel the coldness that seeps in as my character walks into a cold pool early in the morning. I can see the crystal clear sky reflected in the pool, I can feel the waves lapping on her body. It is like magic and I can feel it running through me guiding my hands toward the letters to type. I can feel the words taking shape all of a sudden and I have to write them down.
I know I may not use all these in my story. Not every scene in a movie is interesting. But I need to record all that they are telling. My monkey mind can do the rewriting once I have finished the first draft. As for now, all I can feel is the magical flow of words waiting one after other to jump into the pool that will form my manuscript. I have to catch them before they vanish among the numerous other words which are equally eager to join them in the pool. I have to hasten. I have to give them their right place and I have to keep them happy. Words, after all, are my best friends. I am so thankful to them. They make me serene and all that happens in my stories are their creations. I am just someone who is transcribing a mystical genius who wants all its creations to be soulful and mindful.