i think i am in the gathering phase. reading endless articles gathering myriad viewpoints. my mind is organising it. ya, these two articles go together and these ten are adding to each other, this one says something different. categorising. it is a logical and detached process.
and that is also confusing as all the material is so emotive. drawing out endless feelings. feelings are harder to sort out sometimes so i remain with thoughts? emotions are at the edges, tugging and calling but i dont want to yet give them centre stage. afraid of being submerged.
four hours of sleep and i wake to inner whisperings. there are stories to write. there is work to be done. not yet - there is still matter to gather. write as you gather it whispers.
but i am still sorting out what the inner urges are directing me to. sometimes it becomes very clear. in a lucid moment i might say - yes i need stories to transform the old myths and i might also add - hmm, these stories will probably fall into three categories
(1) stories that illuminate how an ancient tale is the source of harmful behaviour and consequences in the present.
(2) stories in which gender roles are reversed so when seen together suddenly the repressive roles assigned to women is evident.
(3) stories that use the same names and same context but totally change the relationships and dynamics so the world i want to see - an egalitarian world begins to manifest.
but all these stories need to be brought to life in a way in which they make the reader wonder. hmm... was that real or is this real? what if both were? or neither?
and in this clear moment i might also know that the myths i want to start rewriting are bigger than me. they need a collective to rewrite them. i would also know that i want to use the short story form and not give them too much of my time. yes, i did a lot of work to escape the shape the myths wanted to give me. so now i can give them so much and no more.
the real story i want to write is the one i wrote of my own life - lived in the midst of those currents from the past and the pressures from my patriarchal joint family, the dominating masculine india of my childhood and the little safe space of my all girls high school, where the strong feminine sprouted. my novel emerges from there.
but i don't really know all this clearly yet. i am just writing what i might know it if i would have some long lucid moments.
and right now i am wondering. who reads these words? do people visit this blog more than once? what wisdom would they want to share with me?
and that is also confusing as all the material is so emotive. drawing out endless feelings. feelings are harder to sort out sometimes so i remain with thoughts? emotions are at the edges, tugging and calling but i dont want to yet give them centre stage. afraid of being submerged.
four hours of sleep and i wake to inner whisperings. there are stories to write. there is work to be done. not yet - there is still matter to gather. write as you gather it whispers.
but i am still sorting out what the inner urges are directing me to. sometimes it becomes very clear. in a lucid moment i might say - yes i need stories to transform the old myths and i might also add - hmm, these stories will probably fall into three categories
(1) stories that illuminate how an ancient tale is the source of harmful behaviour and consequences in the present.
(2) stories in which gender roles are reversed so when seen together suddenly the repressive roles assigned to women is evident.
(3) stories that use the same names and same context but totally change the relationships and dynamics so the world i want to see - an egalitarian world begins to manifest.
but all these stories need to be brought to life in a way in which they make the reader wonder. hmm... was that real or is this real? what if both were? or neither?
and in this clear moment i might also know that the myths i want to start rewriting are bigger than me. they need a collective to rewrite them. i would also know that i want to use the short story form and not give them too much of my time. yes, i did a lot of work to escape the shape the myths wanted to give me. so now i can give them so much and no more.
the real story i want to write is the one i wrote of my own life - lived in the midst of those currents from the past and the pressures from my patriarchal joint family, the dominating masculine india of my childhood and the little safe space of my all girls high school, where the strong feminine sprouted. my novel emerges from there.
but i don't really know all this clearly yet. i am just writing what i might know it if i would have some long lucid moments.
and right now i am wondering. who reads these words? do people visit this blog more than once? what wisdom would they want to share with me?
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