Writer's Block

My first writing on why I don't write.

About a month ago, I finally started my newsletter. It was an idea that I was toying with for a few months, if not a year. Although, I have been writing for more than a decade, nothing seems more daunting than committing to writing regularly. My personal diary, a secret blog or even a few odd pieces here and there, did not need the kind of commitment that a newsletter would need. Most other avenues for writing- a regular column maybe, publishing in journals, pitching to reputed publications or even writing a book- are all endeavours that require some amount of devotion that I didn’t seem to have. I am a researcher and writing is part of the work I do. I write to reflect, to record and in some cases, to invite others in to my mind. All of these are done on a whim, when there is an inspiration or a thought waiting to be explored- external factors that might propel me to pick up a pen and jot down a few words. Intentional writing seemed artificial and lacked soul and I didn’t want to go down that path sounding like every trained writer- the same. The roadblocks that have existed in the years gone by still plagued me. I have not sent out a single newsletter since I started it last month. If I had spent all these years in perfecting my writing instead of my excuses, I would perhaps be a prolific writer.

Elena Megalos, who is an artist, writer, teacher and film director, studied writing in Columbia. I met her when both of us were working briefly in Teach For Malyasia. Elena trained Fellows in writing and I in personal leadership. In one of our many conversations on diverse topics, Elena shared how one of the key practices in the writing course at Columbia was the writers’ workshop. In the workshops, Fellow-students and faculty would provide feedback to students on their writing, which would mean that some writers would have to start afresh or tweak parts of their pieces. Starting afresh doesn’t seem like a big deal if one is writing a short story but can be devastating if one has made considerable progress on a 60-thousand word novel. As I heard Elena describing the pedagogy in Columbia, I pictured myself as a student in the writing course. I imagined sitting in a circle with my classmates and preparing to read what I had written. I wondered if my writing would be torn apart by my peers and instructors or would I get home after each class filled with joy because my writing resonated with my audience and the feedback was great? I wondered if I would gain from that kind of writing instruction. In addition to the feedback that would prepare me to receive harsh reviews as an established writer, I would learn writing conventions- sharpen my grammar, punctuation, learn when to use direct speech, know when to include references to people and so forth. The only training I have ever received for my writing is the academic writing course I did at UCL when I was getting my M.A. It helped me perfect my academic writing but for all other queries, I was directed to my supervisors. The time with supervisors was very limited, as they would keep a close eye on the clock and despite all the humanness I tried to infuse in our conversations, I couldn’t get myself to ask my professors a small favour. And so a year after my M.A., I still have unanswered questions and a potential writing side hustle waiting to take off.

A second issue that I have wrestled with is not sounding like myself in my writing. I have a voice in my Instagram posts, for example. I sound like myself- I write the way I speak. I write like a ‘natural’. Every single time, I have decided to write for a slightly larger audience, I start sounding like someone else and begin to have nothing to say. Finding your voice- the literal and figurative- is not easy. After years of silence, can one be hoisted on a stage and still make a riveting speech? The process of finding a voice can be an arduous one because when you find your voice, you also have to focus on being heard. Communication is social and the way we speak or remain silent fixes our place in these communities.

Which brings me to the third point of what contributes to my writer’s block- the fear of being read by that very community and possibly jeopardising my membership. As I mentioned, at the start, I write sometimes to invite people into my thoughts and I am conscious of those who might enter. Writing for a larger audience means opening up to several unknowns especially in topics that are of a personal nature. How does one write with the right amount of self-disclosure? And how can you write in a way that, you don’t hurt those who are part of your story? Last year, I wrote a short story, for a contest, on the similarities between my father and the current Prime Minister of India. I used a pen name confident that I would win and my father would read the story and know exactly how I feel about his patriarchal authoritarianism. Neither of the two events happened- I didn’t win nor did my father come to know what I felt about him. Barack Obama, in his book, The Promised Land, wrote unflatteringly of Rahul Gandhi’s readiness to be a leader. The lines were widely circulated and created quite a bit of discontent among Congress supporters. I wondered how Rahul Gandhi must have felt knowing what the ex-President of the United States thought of him. How much it must have stung knowing that the book would be highly popular and other influential people would have also been influenced by Obama’s views? Amy Coney Barret’s relative recently spoke to Anand Giridhardas on why she thinks it’s a bad idea for Barret to assume the position of US Supreme Court Judge. It is these thoughts that make me wary about writing. The topics I will write about will be centred on my lived experiences and will invariably include people from my life. How do you write without being worried about bumping into the person you spoke about in your next international summit or the next Christmas gathering?

Perhaps my questions are basic. Maybe the trained writers have already surpassed these blocks. I think it’s time for me to research writing workshops because even if a trained writer might sound the same, at least, they are not silent.