So I decide to write.
Here I am. Sitting on my clichéd writing desk, rough drafts gathering dust in a rather unkempt pile on the left corner, a forgotten cup of coffee lies steaming on my right.
I look out of the window, the monsoon rain has washed the dust away, and the bright green leaves of the Ashoka are dazzling. I hope some inspiration will drizzle down me, and I will pen it down, and I will publish it, and I will await your response.
I fail to find the said inspiration.
But I will fulfill my promise of writing.
So I start with a beautiful quote here.
It does not reveal much about the content, but it’s bound to pique your interest. – Confucius.
I now must also write a bit to explain WHY I chose to compose this piece.
Of course, I’ll narrate a small but memorable incident of my childhood to establish an emotional connect, some promise which failed to materialise, a paragraph to enthrall you, mesmerise you, make you see things from my perpective and slowly sink into this post.
Now that I have you bearing with me, I must also progress the plot. For this, I’ll have to find continuity from the first paragraph.
I’ll make you think along the lines.
I’ll make you read between the lines.
I’ll make you move from this line to the
I have to write without ridiculing myself. I’ll make myself look cleverer than I am. Like I know things. Like I can get things done. Like I can make this post great again.
I face the same challenge as every writer- to not to insult your intelligence by making the answers to the questions probing your mind obvious, nor make it so difficult that you swipe to the next post.
As they say, prose is at its most beautiful when it’s invisible.
Now I have you at mid-essay. I must begin to answer the questions asked above, to complete the circle. The plot reveals itself, thread by thread. (Does it?).
And you read on, captivated at the picture unfolding in front of your eyes.
Or perhaps, simply finishing what you started, good or bad.
And now I have to enter a BANG. The climax. An impact which leaves you with a pleasant taste, perhaps like a bar of Cadbury’s finest milk chocolate.
To compliment it –
A quote taken out of context, which tries so hard not to be clichéd. – Albert Einstein, accompanied by his black-and-white photograph.
And now you’ve reached the end of the rather redundant post.