If you post one of your poems or a quote of yours or maybe an extract from your story on your Facebook timeline and hardly anyone notices it making you feel disappointed or discouraged, then this blog post is for you. Maybe you had sent your very dear manuscript to a publisher and it has returned with a due note of unacceptance, it might disappoint the whole process you had been through while writing your novel. Perhaps it makes you feel that people do not understand your writing or maybe you are unable to connect well with your readers despite having a faith of being a good writer in yourself.
I am writing this blog to tell you that do not let anyone else or any opinion come in between you and your art.
Maybe people don’t understand your way of writing yet or maybe you are yet to understand how to form a relationship with your readers, or maybe you are yet to discover a lot of things about writing. But, so what?
The art of writing is not just a talent, but it evolves with time and practice. However, do remember one thing, there would always be at least one person in the whole world who’d love what you have written, who would relate to your writing, and who’d find your words to be the exact expression of what they had been trying to express.
Write for that one person.
That person could be anywhere in this world, or could be anywhere in some other time period. And, that one person could even be inside you, living as a part of you and trying to find a vent out of the muddle inside your head. Write for yourself. Because, if you would stop writing by getting discouraged because of other people’s opinion, you’ll find yourself stuck inside a confined room which you have locked yourself because of the sake of your good image. Release yourself because it is what matters the most, and it is precisely what the meaning of art is. Last week I was traveling in the North-eastern states in India and there was one moment that instigated thoughts in me. I want to share it with you.
“There is a small village in Cherrapunji by the name of Tyranni (if I remember the spelling correctly). I was passing by that village at around six in the evening, returning back to my taxi which was waiting for me at still a long distance away. There were little houses and from one of those houses I could hear the sound of singing. The house was still at a distance and away from my sight which made me curious. When I saw it finally, I saw two small girls sitting right in front of the door of their sweet little home.
They were doing some household chore which I was unable to figure out clearly in the dark and from that distance. And they were singing a song in their own melody. I waved to them and they waved back joyously. While crossing them I wondered about the time of early humans who didn’t have any legendary artists for their reference. They didn’t have television or radio or internet. Their only form of entertainment was the songs they composed to express their happiness or sadness or gratitude towards mother Earth, or the stories they wanted to share with each other. The images they carved on the walls and stones were the rawest form of art.
This is what the real art is – the expression. Write for the sake of expression, to vent out your emotions, to share your knowledge and wisdom, to pray and praise your God, and to spread love. Write for yourself, for your family, for your friends, to the rainfall and waterfalls, to the sunshine, to the glaciers, to the mountains and moonlight. Speak to the stars. Write your darkest thoughts. Let your imagination run wild. You can imagine way beyond you thought you could. Write with honesty.
May the people know you more through reading your writings than they could in person because this is what art is, and not a numeral that should be expected in the number of likes, reactions, comments, and shares. For your art must seek the joy of creation, the satisfaction of completion, the expression, love and compassion for the people. And you shall know one day that opinions are neither static, nor objective. They change at a blink. And they could destroy you if you’d let them. Be proud that you can express yourself. Be you and you shall become what you are meant to be.”
Author: Titiksha Singhal
Read here – English Short Stories