On The Verge of Becoming A Writer

 

That night she was reading Salman Rushdie, an author she always wanted to read, not because of his well-known work particularly but because of the headlines he made for his work. She got hold of Midnight’s Children and was reading about what gave birth to such a magnificent work. It is always fascinating to know what force is behind any splendid creation. As she was melting herself into the work of Mr. Rushdie, she felt an urge, an urge that never left her alone whenever she read, an urge to relate herself to the characters of the book. She had this strange habit of relating herself to every character of the book especially the antagonist. I guess everyone who reads can relate. They say that the work of the author is the sum total of his experiences in life. Even the fiction is the product of more of his experience than his imagination. This she could tell from the books she had read; the writer’s take a lot from their personal lives.

This was the time of realization, she thought that her life story is also worth telling; at least she thought it to be interesting. And if she thought so, she can make her audience think so too, if she comes out to be a good writer. She put Salman Rushdie aside for the time being so that she could think of what part of her life she would want to share. While she was thinking she thought of Virginia Woolf, a writer she loved. She thought more of Mrs. Dalloway, one of the famous characters from her work, and how Virginia Woolf portrayed her using her own personal life. For instance, Mrs. Dalloway’s character realizes that she is bisexual in nature, of which Virginia Woolf herself was guilty about.

Putting one’s life instances in fiction seems to me a kind of forgery. But that’s how fictions come to life. They say fictions are more real than reality itself, I suppose this fact makes that happen. She thought she got to take inspiration from the writer’s work to become a successful one herself. But that might influence her work. Getting influence is not bad, but she wanted to produce something pure, something unadulterated. But then no work of art is unadulterated whether it was Picasso or Shakespeare, they all had someone or something that influenced them.

To Be continued….