Writing, a journey.

 Find a subject you care about and which you in your heart feel others should care about. It is this genuine caring, and not your games with language, which will be the most compelling and seductive element in your style.
– Kurt Vonnegut


I started writing over a year back and if there’s one word that I can use to describe the writing journey, it would be liberating. Writing is liberating. Writing is bliss. Writing is freedom. Writing pushes me to face things I don’t want to face, to pen things that matter to me the most, to reach out to people I don’t know, to connect the tangled strands of life, to make sense of what’s going on outside and inside, inside the brimming head of mine.

I was hesitant at first. I dint want to write. How could I? I dint have a world-class vocabulary or technical skills to write. But something twirled and twisted inside me, something that pushed me to start. A heart that beats, a mind that dreams probably? Who knows. But I am grateful I started. I just started.

I wrote and I felt different, lighter and heavier, sorted and confused, wanting to stop and wanting to write more. As I went deeper in the journey, it became more challenging. And well, exciting. It became easier and tougher at the same time.  Easier technically, but tougher emotionally, for now words forced me to dig in deep, to sit back and reflect.  It would make me smile. And cry, at times.

This journey had phases. The phase where I just wrote without thinking. The phase when I reflected a lot. The phase where I started enjoying. The phase I loved the attention writing got me.  The phase where I started using fancy words .The phase when I started writing for others. The phase where I wrote about things that I cared about. The phase where I was at peak of the journey. And then the phase where I stopped. I stopped writing. Altogether.

I don’t know how it happened. But it did. It happened when I was closest to myself, unraveling my thoughts, myself, my walls. Probably that’s the reason why it happened.

Today, after six months of not writing it’s a new phase altogether. A phase where I am recollecting myself to start the journey afresh.

My definition of writing has become more refined. It actually has. I don’t see writing as an intellectual, skilful task. For its a beautiful process, an extraordinary journey I travel through, given I find something that inspires me, that moves me, that I care about. And that, I believe is what makes any writing extraordinary- to write about something, anything that matters to the writer.

This is my idea behind Ink A Spark- Writing about things that leave a spark behind.  I hope I do justice to the journey. And myself.

As I type, I just have this to say-
People say writing is cathartic. It is. But it’s so much more. It’s messy. It’s confusing. It’s challenging. It’s playful. It’s fun. But above all, it’s liberating.



4 thoughts on “Writing, a journey.

  1. Every time I go thru d thots penned down by u..it leaves me mesmerised! My small lil sis is so gently touching others’ lives.. So proud of u Ankita.. Go on.. exploring n expressing (y)

    • Hey Suchi Di.

      I am so grateful that you like reading my posts. Thank you so much, it means a lot. I hope I can continue this. 🙂

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