It has been a long wait. It begins ever since you put down your first words on paper. I wanted it to be read. But, I had not dared to dream, to see it in print and into the hands of the people.
The fears, the self disappointments, the doubts; I went through everything that comes with the job profile of a writer. But, the stories in your head, they don’t let you rest. The characters nag you, chase your dreams at night and disrupt your thoughts during the day. They cajole you into writing their side, threaten you with burying the threads of their stories and blackmail you emotionally by tugging on your guilt. There comes a time when you have to bring yourself in-front of that white screen and let them take over.
Stories are strange, you start with one thing and then you end up discovering more about your own creation as you progress. The good ones turn out to have grey shades and the grey ones have more white than black.
It took four years for me to finish my book and yet I often find myself floating into that world which I created and being enamored by it’s beauty. Perhaps, I can say, I did all that I could to the best of my abilities. Though it would be a shame if this is my best work because I intend to keep writing more and improving my craft along the way. Having said that I have put out a part of myself to be read, evaluated and judged.
So, God help me.
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