Aniesha's Musings

Stephen King was once asked how does he write to which he replied, “Oh, usually one word at a time.” It’s a funny answer but if you really think about it then writers for the most part are divided into two categories:
i.Those who believe in writer’s block ii.Those who dismiss it.
For my part, I have both believed and not believed in writer’s block for a number of reasons. There’s a rather funny definition of writer’s block wherein one believes it occurs when your imaginary friends refuse to talk to you. Because let’s face it all our ideas and stories seem to come from this mysterious Source. Maybe this Source is the imaginary friends that we joke about. You could be sitting at your work desk and be hit by an idea suddenly. Or you could be in a crowded metro trying your best to keep yourself from falling on the next person when suddenly a brand new idea dawns on you. It is unbearable if you are unable to get to your phone and type out a hasty note. Because the biggest lie we tell ourse…

It was all thanks to the invitation we got to be part of a panel at the Hay Festival 2017, that I got a chance to meet Mr. Neil Gaiman and happened to get my copy of  The Ocean at the End of the Lane signed too. Wait, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Stories like these need to be savoured. Stories like these cannot be completed in hasty sentences. I am sure you want to know the how, the when, the what, the who...and the endless stream of questions that has definitely crossed your mind as soon as you saw the name of this post!

So let me start by telling you how I came across this fantastic storyteller named Neil Gaiman.

Well, it started when I was trying to find the perfect quote for a story I was writing which had (believe it or not) my cat, Pippo, as its protagonist. Now, because I just have to start all my stories with quotes, I looked for one that would be cat appropriate. And I found a perfect quote from his novel, Coraline:

'What's your name,' Coraline asked the cat.…

“But we are looking for the same thing, At the end of the day – we are all…” You cannot finish your sentence, because You’re too terrified of what you’ll hear now. You worry about the next words that will greet you Because it could the soft balm that would heal your aching soul Or the harshest ones that will rip your heart into pieces again! You can never be sure about where you stand, Because this ground that you stand so firmly on – It could be taken away from you in the blink of an eye! You’re too scared to reach out your hand, to even touch  You’re too afraid that to give that hug because you cannot be sure Of what could happen next.
What could happen next ranges from the fairy tale ending To the harsh reality where no one ends up together! But you’re too terrified to speak, you cannot speak. You open your mouth to let out a whisper, and to your surprise Comes out this blood churning scream And the broken girl who could never speak out before asks – Well, can you hear my voice this time?…

"Have you written anything yet?" "I don't feel inspired." "I think you need to be alone." So alone I was,  for an hour and half. Walking around.  Everything had closed down.  For a city girl, this was a shock. I finally went down to the riverside,  And stood there listening to the silence.
I remembered a story I heard of the  maiden who rode her horse down the mountain,  Who rode quite slowly but no one could catch up to her. I remembered how a Prince had chased her,  Until he got her.  In the story I heard, he had called out to her, "Stop!" She did.  When he asked her why she hadn't stopped before, She replied, "Well, you never asked."
I had laughed when I first heard the story.  I laughed again, Remembering it now. 
Can everything life really be that simple? All you need to do is just ask? 
Or are things just simpler in stories  Because they always need to make sense? And life, well life never really does! 
I sat down by the riverside and watched the su…