That's why, I flipped

"Silent waters are very deep". Okay I did not type it down from my own memory. I suck at proverbs. It is in fact a phrase a really good - soul (may he live long.. hahaha) used to describe me after reading my blog. I've been writing and updating this blog for the past 6 years and never once have I come across such a unique.. well.. compliment. I have never bothered much to publicize my blog and I am never perplexed about the scarcity of an audience. I seldom check my stats. After hearing this phrase, a realization, stranded in some barren island of my ocean-like mind , dawned upon me. The answer to a spontaneous question.. "Why do I write?" Simple. Because in the process of writing, I lose myself within the depths I've conquered. My life is so enormous, diverse and eventful that I frequently get urges to save every single moment, feeble or gigantic, as some video perhaps. But the video is hideous, washed out and vague when it gets registered in my mind. So I greedily capture every single scene and transform my film into a script.
"Dadda I want to become a writer like Enid Blyton! Talk to a good publisher and print my book. Now!", I told daddy when I was in 3rd standard. "But baby, you are too small to become an author!" he said, smiling. "NOO!", I yelled stubbornly, showing him the Milly-Molly-Mandy book . "See, this stupid girl named Joyce who wrote this book was my age! When some hill-billy published this boring book, why can’t my mystery story get printed?" Daddy just smiled. I was very persuasive yet I couldn’t convince my mind to wait or give up. I penned down everything in diaries, then typed down millions of ms word pages and one fine day, started my blog.

But my dream of becoming a writer still lies afresh. I draw inspiration from loads of writers. Each one possesses an unusual style which anyone can instinctively identify and that’s what adds to the beauty which their work projects out. But strangely I admire the unsung writers more than the infamous ones like Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, Jeffrey Archer or well, Chetan Bhagat. I am addicted to Eva Ibbotson, Meg Cabot, R.L Stevenson and many other writers whose names I don’t even remember. What I see in them is just plain versatility. Eva Ibbotson literally sways magic across the reader's mind when she describes the flamboyancy of nature blending it with a tinge of romance. Her stories set at the amazon basin are so brimming with passion that I would do anything to be the protagonist of her novel. Meg Cabot, on the other hand is peppy and humorous. I have to say, I am irrevocably in love with her subtle yet amusing way of expressing a scene. She doesn't use bombastic words but her stories usually revolve around teenage "damsels in distress" and how they kick off their problems with their supercool attitude and "ooh - aah" charms. That's what makes her a heart - throb!
So, coming to RLS, the sight of his books might be repulsive to an average teenager since it requires a dictionary in supplement firstly, and loads of patience. People give up even before reaching the dead man's chest and the bottle of rum stuff. I mean, there's a scarcity of women in his stories. And you can't even accuse the society being male - chauvinist.

So, with regard to the “I- wannabe- a- writer” thing, that phrase really triggered something in me. And it rejuvenated my writing skills. Since 7^th grade, as my mind grew, my writing progressed, my styles changed bit by bit and my blog showcases every tiny phase of my teenage life.  Wondering how a little thought can perform such multitasking? Well, mind is faster than the TRANSLTR in Digital Fortress. Thoughts keep whirling about until they get decoded. So, the thought process would never cease, nor would my writing . There is still plenty to explore, millions of issues to ponder upon.