Then I daydreamed about how I’d write a memoir or novel on my life story, and how it would then become a bestseller and rule the markets. I thought that I would distribute some signed copies, earn some money and bring a change in peoples lives.
But then…a few thoughts which got me to act
• I’d write when I’d grow old
– no one guaranteed me that I will survive till then, to grow old.
• I’ll write when I’ll have finished all my work in life
– It is never going to end. No one and nothing can assure me a successful future either. So I’ll have to start someday.
• I’ll earn millions after becoming a bestseller
– This is no more a issue because I have fallen in love with this art. And money isn’t at all above my holy craft. And no can guarantee me millions either.
• People will read my work and I’ll become famous
– I don’t know whether it will happen or not, but I become happy when even a single person reads whatever I have written, even if its just me (It had been me)
So till then these were my achievements:
• I won a school certificate as a second prize in a poem writing competition (5 years ago)
Nothing else I achieved. Funny?
And did I stop writing? No.
I didn’t even knew whether I was really serious about writing until I started writing.
Then I noticed
That no one can future-proof my writing risks. Actually, there were no risks. Because I realized that,
“I write, not to please others or out of greed, but for myself”
It was like the end of expectations.
It was simple to clarify my writing to me, but not to people. They always think that there has to be a reason why I take writing a bit seriously…just a bit seriously.
And then, for the sake of clarifying, I use some humble words like,
“Its just a hobby,” or “I like it. that’s all” and all other possible words using which I can make them understand, and yet they don’t.
“Come on dude! Admit that you have a useless dream of becoming a bestseller”
“In this growing world, full of bestsellers, who the hell would bother to read what you write”
“You’ll starve if you’ll try making writing your career”
(It surprises me that how people make their own predictions and assumptions. Sometimes it feels like, they take my writing more seriously than I do)
“Writing is useless. How can you survive among the storm of bestsellers that will blow away novices like you”
And all I do is ‘Ignore’, for well being of me and my writing.
Spare me please. I don’t claim to be a professional or something. Not even even close to the word beginner I am.
• I have written a few poems which no one has ever read, except me!
• I have wasted my time (What the world calls it) in writing short stories with sincere dedication, and which no one bothers to read.
• It was only me who read the initial few blog posts, which were isolated from the eyes of people and search engines. And yet I wrote when I didn’t even knew that what a blog actually was.
• And it is me even now who writes. Not caring about anything.
Do you still doubt me?
Why do I write then?
I accept whatever you think. From the dream of becoming a bestseller to the wish of earning from this blog.
But I thought all these things, when I was not enough wise. Of course I thought that people would read whatever I’ll write and then my materialistic dreams would come true.
But now I call myself a fool, because I expected!
The outcomes of my work are likely not fixed, but my contentment with writing is.
One of my friends asked me,
“What will you get out of writing, after all no one will bother to read your writing. Who will read it?”
to which this was my reply,
“Maybe my niece and nephews will. They’ll feel proud about reading stories written by their own uncle. They might even think that their uncle was a crazy fellow. When I’ll die, the stack of pages of what I write will satisfy me. That will be a proof that at least I had created something and.”
Seriously. I mean that I may die, but my writings and my blog won’t die.
I write because it makes me happy. And yes, I believe that it can bring a change in people’s lives. I don’t care much about earning, not more than writing.
• It started when my desire of sharing became more than normal. I felt like I’d burst. Because I didn’t wanted all the stories which I wish to share, and my wisdom to die with me. So I had to release my thoughts somewhere, and now, this blog is the result.
A special thanks to the kind people who care to read what I write, and those who motivate me to write.
Now stats don’t bother me much. Everything goes well. Sometimes I get involved in the shameless promotional tricks by begging my people to read my blog via social networking sites, IM’s or in person. That seems okay to me (Even if it spoils some of my reputation).
– This blog started in august. When I just posted a article on G.B.Shaw, published it and made my harmful and awful grammar public to make a fool of myself, I’d say that it required guts. But it wasn’t that bad though. Cheers!
– I’m happy with the fact that my words and messages have reached people. As the page views have become 1000+ with about 15 posts that exist on this blog.
– It feels great to see that my words revolve around the globe via internet and reach the people who are humble enough to read them.
If you’re a critic who is noticing my writing a, judging it, pointing at grammatical mistakes, deciding that whether I’m capable of gaining more traffic or engaging readers, or whether I should write or not, whether it’ll benefit me or not, then,
I promise that I’ll get better
And if you are not ready to spare me, help me and be a part of my journey. And if you’re not ready to do that, Don’t read. Simple, isn’t it?
Because it is better to mind our own business instead of pulling down someone who is trying to rise.
If you read this post whole, without scrolling much, you’re cool!
If you read this blog often, thank you so much…
If you’ve subscribed, well! that is unexpected.
Thank you for being a sincere reader.
May God bless all! 🙂