“The true alchemist do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words” – William H. Gass
Some are born writers, they start to scribble in the walls of the house as soon as they learn to walk, they draw and scrawl in their parents or bigger siblings books writing in the secret words that originate from the corners of their mind. Though not all of them continue sharpening the inborn quill, some goes on to pursue art.
While some others get inspired from their parents or some one who was close to them like their favorite teacher or their favorite uncle. They listens in classes and are interested in the art of spinning tales, they hone their skills and grows up to go to colleges to pursue education in literature and history.
The third group are the ones who got inspired by the books written by their favorite writers and they were also probably in their teens when the comet of inspiration stuck them in the form of a book. I was one of them. But the thing that separated me from the other inspired teen book heads were that I lacked passion for the writing at least in the beginning of my life.
Do not get me wrong, I was and am a reader. A book worm . But the thing that attracted me to writing was the money. I had looked up about the writers whose book I have read which also happened to be famous ones and apparently all of them had ended up rich after getting their books published and that decided it for me. Woe me for my shallow and flippant heart. I overlooked the fact that all of them were famous, that they were all passionate, hard workers with a million following and almost all of those writers had not started rich and a larger number of writers had never been able to enter the spot light either, which had left me with a bad taste.
But now I had matured a lil bit or thinks I have and as a result and have kinda changed…. and the writing that I began as a pursuit for money kinda became my hobby…. I don;t think you will find any moral from my life or at-least from this production of my writing. I am trying to refer to this post and can’t find an apt name …. I do not know whether to name it article or an autobiography snippet.
So here I am getting all the typos from my mistypes due to lack of practice in typing, trying to make a better writer out of myself.
A flash fiction challenge – 100 words only
– I wish the day would come soon when I could stop killing people in my mind for just 100 words –
” Why “, sobbed the woman.
” A challenge was issued “, I said.
“What “, she quavered.
“A challenge.. can’t you hear me… a challenge.. need hundred words”
” But…Why “. Tears flowed from her eyes.
” Needed the experience.. want to better myself…. keep talking “
” Yes…. keep talking”
“Please “, she whimpered and a shudder went through her and she stopped moving.
I looked at the stab wound, looked terrible but the concept was terrible minded, a hundred words of fiction. A drabble. It is hard enough to write short fictions.
"Spinning subtle web of tales in my head"