New Creations Blogfest- Jan 5

A couple of days back, I happened to stumble across Summer Ross's "New Creations Blogfest". The rules were simple -
1)Pick one ending sentence from last years stories, your favorite one that you wrote. (Only one, and yes it has to be an ending sentence)


2) Write one brand new starting sentence for a story you have been thinking about, or something off the top of your head. But it must be your first sentence. (Yes only one, and yes it must be new.)

Now post your ending and brand new beginning sentence in one post on January 5th


The first part was easy, since there was only one story that I completed last year.

The second part was much more challenging. A couple of you know that I made a tentative resolution to finish one book before my 40th birthday in June, but that I could not decide on which of the four story ideas I had in my head to start work on first. In the course of thinking of my 'starting sentence', I think I have committed to one of them.

So here are my ending sentence from last year, and beginning sentence from this year-

"If you insist", she laughed. "Now have your breakfast. Then you can go out and play."
- ending sentences of "To the Moon, the first in The Magic Ladder Series" of children's books.


"And what is a good Tam Brahm girl like you doing piling tandoori chicken on her plate?"
- starting sentence of my untitled 'Romance at the Workplace' book, which may well turn into a Cozy set in an Investment Bank


So there you are. My two sentences.

And, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Summer Rose. Thank you for making me do this.

From a flower to a fruit

I had a plant full of pretty white flowers one day. The next day, most of the petals had dropped off, but I could see the swollen pistil that I knew would soon become a fruit. One month later, the fruits are still on my tree and in no hurry to ripen. The process takes time!!!!

When I signed up for the Internal Conflict Blog Fest, I knew exactly which scene from my WiP I would be posting. It was a scene that I thought I had got right the first time round, and which I had read through a couple of times without needed to make any changes.

While reading through it before posting, I found that if I changed the setting of the background to the scene a bit, not only could I cut out a lot of unnecessary stuff from the chapter that contained the scene, I could shoot for much greater impact from the chapter.

And what applies to that chapter would apply to many others. I am pretty sure that if I take the red pencil to the document, I can easily cut out at least half the fat, which would give me space to fill in a lot more muscle. The synopsis wouldn't change, neither would the story, but the book would be much better to read.

Editing reminds me a lot of the process by which a fruit becomes a fruit. Pollination is needed to get the flower to decide to become a fruit- that is the first draft. But after the flower swells up to become a fruit, and before the fruit actually ripens, is the multiple drafts and re-drafts it takes to make a WiP a finished Manuscript. Once you accept that editing a document is not much different from gardening, things become so much easier to accept. Or don't they?

Internal Conflict Blog Fest

I've never done a blog fest before, but when the awesome Jessica announced the Internal Conflict Blog Fest, I had to join in.

Here's a scene from my current WiP, "Lipstick in the Boardroom".

On the way back, Dipesh dumped his laptop on the front seat, and stretched his hand out on the back of the seat. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the implication behind the gesture any more. Dipesh hadn’t just put his hand behind the seat because it was comfortable. He had put it there to force her to make a decision. The gesture was at the same time an invitation and a challenge. Revathi knew she had to make the next move. She could either pretend she didn’t understand what he was implying, and ignore it. Or she could respond. Every rational thought she was capable of told her to ignore it- ‘Dipesh is a colleague and a friend’, she told herself. “Leave it as it is. Don’t complicate things by introducing something new into the equation.’
But she couldn’t deny the fact that Dipesh’s proximity was doing things to her. She wanted him. She really did. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the electric sparks flying between them. Just knowing he was so close to her made her want to draw his body to hers. She wanted him. That she couldn’t deny. But did she want to deal with the complications that would arise later?
She stared out of the window, concentrating on a blue flap of tarpaulin fluttering from a solitary balcony on an unfinished skyscraper. If she stared hard enough, would that patch of blue give her the answers she was seeking?
"Forget it", she told herself sternly. "Flirting with him was fun, but would you be able to continue working with him if you let yourself do something foolish now?"
“What are you thinking?” Dipesh broke into her thoughts.
“Nothing. Nothing in particular.” Revathi’s voice was hoarse. Dipesh was affecting her in ways she had not thought possible.
"That's enough", she cautioned herself. "Besides, don't forget you are already engaged to someone else." The cab went over a pothole. They were both thrown about, and Dipesh's hand brushed against her bare neck.
"Sorry", he said, though he looked anything but contrite.
"That's okay. It was an accident", she muttered, but the catch in her voice gave her feelings away. Dipesh held her gaze, his look was a command. Revathi looked away. This way or that, things were going to get complicated. She reached a decision. She knew what she was going to do was fraught with danger, but sometimes you just had to take a couple of risks.
"Revathi, you have been a good girl for 28 years. Don't spoil all that now. Please." She ignored her inner voice, and reached out to pull his hand down over her shoulder. She stared straight ahead for a few minutes, her fingers twined through his, then turned around to face him. Her eyes sought his, there was a ghost of a smile playing about her lips. His eyes locked into hers. She mirrored the smile he gave her, and looked away again. Her fingers continued to play with his. She bent down and planted a light kiss on his fingers, then started ahead contently, letting her fingers do the talking.
“Kiss?”. His voice was barely above a whisper.
She nodded almost imperceptibly. His lips sought hers. She surrendered to the pleasure.
“First time?”, he asked when they broke apart. She nodded; she didn’t trust herself to say anything. “Again?”, his eyes seemed to ask. It was much longer this time, and Revathi didn’t want to let go of him even after their lips parted. She rested her head on his shoulder, and let him stroke her hair.

W for WiP

I shared the first full-length story I ever wrote with half a dozen people, and heard back from four.
The first told me she liked my character development (though she absolutely disliked my main character), and thought I used dialogue very effectively. But, she informed me, the story flagged in parts and I would have to ruthlessly re-write huge chunks of it to keep the momentum going. Never one to shirk from hard work, I saved a new version of the manuscript on which I could start editing, when I heard from the second reader.
She loved the story. The voice, the characters, the way the story was pulled on through dialogue, and the sheer chickiness of the whole thing. She pointed out a couple of places where I had to do a bit of re-writing, but those were weak points that I had identified even on my own. Since I wanted to believe her, I did one round of revisions, and sent off queries to three publishers.
A couple of weeks after that, I heard back from a third reader. She liked what she read, but from a purely marketing viewpoint, felt I should focus on one of the four characters, instead of having four that are equally important. She suggested I start with a conflict, maybe flashback a little, but keep the focus on one character, with the rest of them being important supporting characters. Given the number of re-writes this particular writer has gone through for a book I thought was better than many published works even in the first draft, I was ready for a long haul.
But even before I completely digested the review, a fourth reader got back to me. She likes the book as it is, and her only suggestion was that I delete entirely a chapter which would have worked if it were a tale of one woman, but which only distracted from the main plot since I had four parallel stories.

The good news is that all four readers like the tone of the story, because that is the one thing most difficult to change. The bad news is that while two of them recommend making minor changes, and two others say it needs total overhauling. If I have to rewrite completely, I am more than happy to do so, but the opinion is divided 50:50 on whether or not the book needs it. Readers 1 and 4 are from India, the other two are not, so it is not a geographical thing. Readers 1 and 4 are exactly my age, the other till a little older, so it is not an age thing. All four read a lot, and all except 1 have written more novels than I have. Each of them is qualified to pass judgment, and I trust all of them to be impartial.
Then how this disconnect?

Reader 3 (Hart Johnson) perhaps nailed it with her comment “I LOVE sort of nebulous books that are about lives that connect but that don't acutely focus (like A Suitable Boy), but I KNOW . . . you can't sell anything that is too diffuse. I think it would help you to be a little less subtle as to who is the primary protagonist . . . focusing on one story as primary will help you sell it.”

Readers 2 and 4 looked at it as a story of four interconnected lives, while 1 and 3 looked in vain for a primary protagonist. It was upto me to decide what I wanted it to be, and re-write accordingly.
It was written as a story of four characters, and I would hate to dilute that by picking one primary character. I don’t have writerly aspirations of the magnitude of a Vikram Seth, but even chick-lit has examples of multiple protagonists *cough Candace Bushnell cough*.
I had to take a decision, and I did. I will go with my gut and send off queries to the other publishers on my list. If I don’t hear back from them, I can demolish and rebuild the entire structure, and re-submit to the same publishers under another name. To me, that sounds like the most sensible thing to do.

Update - Hours after posting this, I heard back from the publisher I thought would be the one most likely to take the bait- "this doesn't fit in with the immediately publishing plans". One down, five to go (yes, that is how many publishers we have in India). The good thing is that I can always do a total overhaul and re-submit next year.

Lipstick in the Boardroom - a Summary

Though I book is far from complete, I have been researching publishers, and all of them want a summary, a resume and a couple of chapters. Since they all say they will take at-least two months to review that, I thought it made more sense to send that in now, and polish the manuscript later.

I couldn't find any guidelines to what an Indian publisher calls a summary, so I came up with a three page synopsis of the story. The biggest problem is that my story is almost all dialogue, and the summary has none at all, but I do hope it manages to capture at least some of my style.

Does it work for you? After reading this, and three chapters, would you want to ask for the rest of the story?

Lipstick in the Boardroom

"Ridiculous, isn't it? We work in the same office, have lunch together almost every day, yet find it so difficutl to schedule a girlie afternoon out!"
On the face of it, Udisha, Revathi, Malathi and Shefali have little in common except the fact that they happen to work in the same investment bank, and yet, they are always there for each other.

Udisha Sengupta’s boyfriend of several years, Rohit, is in the States doing a second MBA. He wanted to get married before he left, but she thought making him wait was the best way to ensure he came back to India at the end of the course. They are in what she calls an “open relationship” – they remain loyal to each other, without taking a vow of celibacy.

Tall, slim and beautiful, Revathi Srinivasan is ‘sort of’ engaged to Arun, a Silicon Valley nerd, whose family has ‘see her’ but who she’s never met. She spends most of her time avoiding him on Skype, and indulging in some harmless flirting with her colleague, Dipesh Mehta. Her parents think she is a good Tam Bram girl- they don’t know she’s been eating chicken and fish since her engineering college days.

Malathi Sinha (nee Thomas) is a single mother struggling to manage the emotional outbursts of a six-year old who wants a father in his life. Tremendously good at her work, she seems to attract the wrong bosses. But what bugs her most is the fear that she is failing miserably in discharging her duties as a mother.

In her struggle to balance the needs of her ten-year old twins, with her career, without compromising on her obsession for fitness, thirty-six year old Shefali Arora knows she is short changing her marriage. She is the person everyone turns to in a crisis, but she’s run out of things to say to her own husband.

~

Udisha is instantly attracted to Malathi’s cousin, Mandy, when she meets him at a children’s party. When he sends her packing after making love to her, she resolves to have nothing more to do with him. But she keeps bumping into him in unexpected places, and, despite herself, finds herself attracted to him.

When Rohit calls off their relationship because he feels a moral obligation to marry the woman he impregnated after a one-night stand, she turns to Mandy for comfort. Despite knowing that his family expects him to marry the girl they picked out for him years ago, Mandy can’t stop himself from falling in love with Udisha. She cares for him, but is not sure if she will ever get over Rohit, so asks him not to call of the other match.

~

Revathi’s parents dote on Arun, but his over-enthusiasm brings out the worst in her. She’s put off by his attempts to flirt with her on-line, and does her best to avoid him in cyberspace. Revathi’s repelled by his antiquated views on women in the workplace, and makes no effort to conceal her disgust. He tries to stir up trouble with her parents, but she manages to sidestep the issue.

Meanwhile, after they exchange their first kiss, her relationship with Dipesh crosses over from harmless flirting to something more tangible. Revathi realizes she is falling in love with Dipesh, but is scared of committing herself to a relationship she knows is not sustainable. Dipesh doesn’t press his case, but advices her to call off the match with Arun since he seems fundamentally unsuitable for her.

~

Malathi struggles to understand Ayan Bhattacharya, her new boss. He’s smart, intelligent and easy to get along with. He understands her struggle to balance her personal and professional lives, and often goes out of his way to be friendly. Yet, he clams up when she tries to draw him out on his family, and is often downright rude to her when she mentions his wife or child.

The mystery is solved, when after accompanying Malathi and her son to the Science Museum, Ayan tells her that he lost his wife and daughter in a road-accident two years back. She, in turn, tells him about her failed marriage, and the two grow closer than their professional relationship would allow.

~

Shefali’s repelled by what she considers the unwanted attention of a man at the gym, but also slightly flattered that someone finds a “middle aged mother of two” attractive. She meets the man again in a purely professional capacity, and despite her initial hesitations, they hit it off. She’s flattered when he asks her out to dinner, but turns down the invitation. She knows her marriage is not going anywhere, and doesn’t want to complicate things by introducing a new element to her rather fragile equation with her husband.

They bump into each other when she is out clubbing with her friends, and though she reluctantly agrees to a dance, she’s repelled by his obvious advances, and tells him, in no uncertain terms to get off.

~

Revathi has a major showdown with Arun over some pictures she put up on Facebook, and is relieved when he calls of the match. She declares her feelings for Dipesh, and they eventually win her parents over. Udisha forgives Rohit and takes him back when he comes crawling back to her after he finds out that the other woman was lying and that the child is not really his. Malathi and Ayan decide to get married as soon as one of them gets a new job so they don't share a boss-subordinate relationship at work, and after twelve years of marriage, Shefali finally takes off on a “honeymoon” to Europe with her husband.

~~~

The cover is by the immensely talented Joris.

I sent him a three line brief, but forgot to give him the title, so he went by the original title that Hart gave him. I had changed the title three times after that to make it more accurate, but after seeing the cover realised the original title still works best.

Cheers!

Feedback at last

When my WIP became a first draft in December 2009, it was a tangled mess of internal inconsistencies, not unlike the basket in which I dump my necklaces. I spent much of February trying to iron out the inconsistencies and bring sense into the order in which the chapters appear. Unfortunately, February was also the month in which I read three really awesome books, and my manuscript looked pathetic in comparison.

I was convinced that I would be doing myself and the world a favour by deleting the entire WIP folder, but three wonderfully supportive people (thank you Tami, Fiona and Marian) convinced me that I should give it to my first readers to get a different perspective. That made sense, and in the last week of February, I sent the manuscript to three people who had volunteered to read it, and to one who hadn't- the only question I wanted answered was whether I should trash the whole project, or invest time into knocking it into shape. A week later, I sent it to two schoolmates, because I realised they would perhaps have a better sense of what would work in the Indian scenario.

Then Silence! I knew that everyone had a life to lead. There were chapters to write, a wedding to prepare for, young kids to mind, and day jobs. It was unrealistic to expect any feedback so soon. But, despite knowing that, the silence was eerie. Did everyone hate it so much they did not want to tell me anything, even though I had specifically asked them to tell me just that? It was scary. I felt the same sick worry that a Mother in the pre-mobile phone days must have felt on the first day that her child used public transportation to get to school and back - I knew I should not be building scenarios just yet, but how else to occupy the time?

And then I heard back from my schoolmate. She said she liked the story and my style of writing. She said I seemed to understand the minds of my characters. Then, huge pause........ 'it is a wonderful story if you are writing for your friends", she said. "But you need to revise extensively before it can be ready for publication." For the next ten minutes she listed out where the pace needed to be tightened, and where the motivations of the characters didn't seem plausible enough. She asked me to add more action within the workplace, and told me to tone down a few scenes. The feedback was invaluable, because it came from someone who could analyse story structure much better that I could ever hope to. But more than anything else, her feedback made me believe that the story was worth expending more energy on.

Hard work never scared me- it is not going to start scaring me now- but it is nice to know there is a purpose to the hard work.

Revision days ahead. Should be fun!!!

And now, one of my characters has decided she wants to start smoking. What does one do with these pesky, whimsical characters?

DONE!

Done.

One word that seems so inadequate, but ends up conveying so much.

When 2009 began, 'Start work on my book' was not even a resolution I considered making. I was going to take up full time employment after nearly 5 years, my older one was going to start primary school, and I doubted if I would have enough time to read, let alone write.

The latter half of the year, I toyed with the idea of starting a book, but was just not able to get myself to start. Then NaNoWriMo fever struck almost all my writing buddies, and I found myself being the only one not to register for the madness. November is a horrible month, I told myself. There's no way I will be able to get any non-work related writing done. I even blogged about why I was not NaNoWriMo-ing.

But peer pressure is something I counted without. You don't have to finish, I told myself. You only have to start. I started writing, hesitently at first, then with greater confidence. A little over a week into it, I found I had written a lot more than I ever thought I would. I registered on NaNoWriMo. That graph kept me going - I loved being able to add just a little bit more to it every day.

End of the month, and while I was nowhere near striking distance of the 50k mark, I knew I would eventually finish the story. Kept pegging away at the book whenever I could. Last week, I did an audit, and figured out exactly how many chapters I needed to write to finish. Christmas was an extended weekend, and between playing Mommy, I managed to write over 11 k words, and FINISH.

The story is DONE!

I did it! I finished an entire book. It is yet to sink in completely. But I know it will, eventually.

The journey's been grand so far. Now for the most fun part of it - editing, and continuity management!!!

Hard-wired for Happiness

The other day, I was with one of the Programme Delivery girls, and she was telling me about a success she had with one of the children she works with. It wasn't something big enough even to be mentioned in the quarterly evaluation, but she was really excited about it, because even a tiny breakthough is a breakthrough.


I shared her excitement - it was so contagious, it would have been difficult for anyone not to - and that only encouraged her to talk more. After about ten minutes, she said, "I really don't know why I am telling you all this. I am sure you are not as interested in it as I am."


I assured her that I wasn't the tiny bit disinterested, but she didn't believe me. "Didi, I am sure you are only being polite", she said. "But I can't help myself. I get excited about small things, and when anyone listens to me, I bore them completely."


"But that is exactly what I like so much about you", I assured her. "The fact that you get excited about things." She beamed, which encouraged me to continue, "You are the sort of person who will always be happy. No matter what life throws at you, you will manage to squeeze your personal happiness out of it."




And that is exactly the sort of person she is. One who is hard-wired for happiness and will claim her share of happiness no matter what. There are quite a few people like her, and I love surrounding myself with them, because without even intending to, they cheer me up when I am down.




There is also the other kind of person. The person hard-wired for lack of happiness. I know one of them too. She is better qualified professionally than 95% of the people in the country. She's married to a man who pampers her in a way I would love to be pampered. She has two well behaved kids, a nice house, a high end car and driver, and full-time household help. She's tall, and pretty, and can look really stunning when she decides to dress up. But she is permanently disgrunteled with life.


I see her taking an evening walk when I am rushing home from work. I am dead tired, but still need to pick up the kids, fix dinner, help with homework, give baths, mediate a dozen fights, and tuck the kids in for the night. She's looking fresh and well groomed, her maid is looking after the kid, and the same maid will feed the kids dinner, wash the dishes and leave the house leaving spick and span before leaving. All she has to do is to look pretty and fresh, and spend a few pleasant hours with her husband before going to bed.


I should be envious of her, but I never am. Because what is the point of physical comforts if you aren't happy?








Which brings me to my current WIP. All my characters are like me - reasonably content with their lot. They get upset, scream, shout, and sulk, but they bounce back. They are the only characters I can write, because I am just not happy with writing any other kind. Does that make my book one sided?

Lipsticks in the Conference Room - an extract

Since NaNoWriMo is the primary reason I have been neglecting my blog (work is the primary reason, but NaNo is what is sucking up the little available time I have), I guess it makes sense to share an extract here.

This is the foreword, and to all of you who do not know Hindi, I apologise in advance for the sprinkling of Hindi words I have used- the words may be unintelligible, but the context gives the meaning.

Lipsticks in the Conference Room - Prologue

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? We work in the same office, have lunch together in the cafeteria almost every day, yet find it so difficult to schedule a girlie afternoon out!” Udisha’s striking green eyes glared at each of the other three women in turn as if each of them was personally responsible for ensuring the delay.
“Well, Revathi has been travelling almost constantly. Sonia had to take a couple of days off when her kids were unwell, and I ….”
“Yes, you Malathi”, interrupted Udisha brushing back a stray curl that had worked itself loose from her ponytail. “What about you? Why have you been so grouchy and distant lately?”
Malathi frowned, deep lines creasing her once smooth forehead. “You have no idea what Rohan puts me through. He just gets more and more demanding every day, and nothing I do seems to have any impact on him. I never thought being a single parent would be so difficult.” She buried her face into her palms for a few moments, then looked up. “Frankly, I have no idea how much longer I can take this strain. I feel like I am walking on the edge, and the slightest push will send me tumbling down the cliff.” The dark circles under her eyes were darker than usual, and her nails were bitten short.
Sonia put her hand on Malathi’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Rohan’s at a funny age, Malathi. He’s starting to discover himself as a person, and the way he can do that is by testing the limits. Don’t let him bug you. And even if he does, don’t show it. This phase too will pass.” Serenity seemed to ooze out of those huge brown eyes, and Malathi gradually felt her confidence returning.
“I really don’t know how you do it, Sonia”, she said, running her fingers through her short, home coloured hair. “Just listening to you makes me feel better.”
A blush crept up Sonia’s fair cheeks. She gave a nervous laugh, “don’t be silly, Malathi. And it’s always easier to give advice than to follow it. Are we going to sit chatting all day, or does anyone even want to order?”
“Yes, let’s order. I am famished.”
“Revathi, looking at you, anybody would think you starve yourself. And yet, you eat more than all of us put together.”
“Nazar mat laga, yaar[1]”, drawled Revathi. “I’m just blessed with great metabolism. When I was younger, I actually had spoonful of ghee[2] every morning, just so I would fill out a little and look less stick like. Now… ”
“And now, if you were just a couple of inches taller, with your figure and all that gorgeous hair, you could pass for a supermodel any day.”
Revathi coloured slightly. “Oh come on. I haven’t seen any supermodels who wears spectacles. Now, can we order? I’m dying for butter chicken and garlic naan. As long as you order that, I am indifferent about everything else.”
“Poke vindaloo?”, asked Malathi with a grin.
“You know I don’t consume anything that has four legs. Stick to the creatures that swim or fly.”
“Come to think of it, I feel like having butter chicken too”, said Udisha after scanning the entire menu. “How about a butter chicken full and Amritsari fish curry? Reckon that would be enough for the four of us?”
“Order something veg for me, please. Maybe a tadka dal or a paneer dish.”
“And since when did you turn vegetarian, Ms. Sonia Bhasin? Have you suddenly turned religious, or is it a new diet?”
“Neither, Malathi dear”, smiled Sonia. “Just that, after their latest bout of jaundice, the kids are only allowed to have steamed or grilled stuff, and it seems selfish of me to hog when they can’t eat any of their favourite stuff.”
“How will they ever come to know?”, asked Udisha. “What they don’t know doesn’t count.”
“They may not know, but I will”, insisted Sonia. “And that is something I can’t live with. Food’s not all that important, is it?”
“It is to me”, said Udisha. “Though I wish it wasn’t. Don’t think I enjoy struggling to control my weight as I now have to?”
“Be like me, Udi. Give up”, said Malathi with a wry laugh. “Things are easier for you after you accept that you are overweight and there is nothing that you can do about it.”
“You may have given up, Sweetie. But I can’t. When I take the saath pheras[3], I want to walk around the fire, not roll around it.”
“I don’t roll”, protested Malathi, but the timely arrival of the waiter prevented the conversation from degenerating into a minor disagreement.

“I’m seeing someone tomorrow.” Revathi’s voice was almost a whisper.
“How do you expect us to hear you if you mumble?”, demanded Udisha. “What was it you said? Sounded like you said you were going to see someone.”
“I am going to be seeing someone tomorrow”, replied Revathi. “Rather, someone’s parents and brother are coming to see me.”
“What?! Seeing as in meeting someone with thoughts of marriage?”, asked Udisha. “I didn’t even know you were in the market.”
“I’m not exactly ‘in’ the market”, said Revathi, emphasizing the word with her fingers. “It’s just that I am not getting any younger, and I don’t exactly have anyone in mind, so I did not disagree when my parents suggested meeting this boy’s parents.”
“But how can you ever go in for an arranged marriage? I mean, how?”
“Nothing wrong with arranged marriages, Udisha”, said Sonia softly. “For all practical purposes, mine was an arranged marriage too. I may have known Hemang and his family for years, but we would never have got married if someone else hadn’t taken the trouble to fix the match.”
“And mine was not an arranged marriage, and we all know how it turned out”, said Malathi.
“Okay, I give up”, said Udisha rolling her eyes. “So, Revathi, when is the wedding?”
“Don’t be silly, yaar. I’m just meeting the family informally tomorrow. It’s not as though anything has been fixed up.”
‘Say whatever you like, Revs. But I know you’ll be married by the end of the year”, predicted Udisha. “Unless someone is both mad and blind, they would snap you up in an instant.”
Revathi hugged her friend, and teased. “Let’s then have a double wedding in December. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“For you maybe, not for me. I have no intention of getting married so soon.”
“But Udisha, you know Rohit would marry you in a jiffy and you too love him. Why are you being so stubborn about not marrying him?”
“Because I know Rohit better than any of you. If I marry him now, he will insist I move to the US to be with him, and before I know it, he’ll take up a job and settle down there. Now that he knows I will marry him only after he comes back to Bombay, he will take up a job in India after he finishes his course.”
“You may have something there”, admitted Sonia. “Equations do tend to change for the worse after marriage. But are you sure the strange arrangement you have reached is conducive to your relationship?”
“What’s so strange about our arrangement?”, demanded Udisha. “It is extremely practical if you ask me. We are both young and attractive, and it is ridiculous to expect that either of us would lead a monastic existence for two years. Might as well agree that we will each go out with other people if we want to, without getting emotionally involved with them.”
“You are having a good time, Udisha. But is Rohit?”
“That, Revathi, is not the point. The point is that Rohit could have a good time too, if he wanted to. If he chooses not to, that is his problem, not mine.”
“I’m not sure if I would be too happy to know that my partner is screwing around, even if he claims to be emotionally loyal to me”, said Malathi.
“With due respect, Malathi, this is not about you. This is about me”, said Udisha huffly.
“In case you have forgotten, I have been through something very similar. And I can tell you it is not sustainable in the long term.”
Udisha made to answer, but Sonia put a restraining hand on her. “Udisha, whether you want to accept it or not, you are playing with fire. Relationships are fragile things, and anything can happen in a situation like the one you have got the two of you into. Just take care, that’s all we’ll say.”
“Thank you, Sonia Aunty”, said Udisha stiffly.
“Most welcome, Udisha beti”, replied Sonia with a smile. “Bhagwan tujhe sad buddhi de.[4]”
Malathi grinned. “A more un-Aunty looking Aunty I have yet to see”, she said. “With that gorgeous figure and the flawless complexion, who’d say you are a mother of two almost grown up kids?”
“Start coming for a run with me in the morning. I guarantee the years will drop off in no time at all.”
“No way!”, the other three chorused. “I value my sleep far too much to ever put myself through the torture of getting up a minute before I need to.”

[1] - Litrerally, 'don't cast the evil eye on me."
[2] - clarified butter, needless to say, incredibly fattening and addictive
[3] - Hindu marriages are sanctified when the couple goes around the sacred fire seven times- term used for the act of marriage
[4] - literally, "may god grant you sense."

Writing can be dangerous

I could kill whoever got me hooked onto NaNoWriMo (I could also kiss them, and once the thing is finally done, I probably will, but that is a different story). My day is more tightly back than a can of sardines (though I have never personally encountered a can of sardines so would go by what the others say), at least in this month, and it is near impossible to find time to write. The one time that does work for me is the 40 minute train commute to and from office.

And there I was today, sitting in my favourite window seat, scribbling the scene leading up to the first kiss of one of my four protagonists. All my life I have had the ability to relive imaginary scenes involving the people who inhabit my head. So it was today. I could picture beautiful Revathi sitting in a cab wondering how to react to the very obvious advances of her colleague. I have no idea when or how it happened, but at some stage, my face started mirroring the expressions I knew were flitting across Revathi's face. When I looked up to lock my eyes into those of Revathi's colleague, I noticed the person sitting across staring at me. A quick look around showed half the compartment suddenly showing an inordinate amount of interest in something just behind my head.

Why did nobody warn me that writing could be this dangerous!

Or does this happen only to me?

Borrowing from life

The story I am writing as a part of NaNoWriMo has four rather different women interacting with each other in an office. None of them is me, in looks, temperament or situation, and yet, when I write them, I find episodes from my life working their way into each of their stories.

Is that at all normal? Will they continue to be so different if all of them end up borrowing so generously from my life?

Sorry about the brevity of the post - have been staring at an Excel worksheet for the past five hours, and not only am I cross-eyed, I am also cross brained!

Progress on NaNoWriMo-No

At the start of the month, I had blogged about why I was not taking up the NaNoWriMo challenge. What I implied, but failed to mention explicitly was the fact that I was going to write as much as I could during the month, and to continue to do so till something was finished.

There had been this vague idea for a chick-lit novel which I was pretty sure I could develop further. One character I was sure about, the rest I started thinking about in the last days of November. Since November 1 was a Sunday, I managed to get about a thousand words written. I wrote on the train while commuting to work, I wrote myself to sleep instead of reading as I normally do. By the end of the week, I had managed to touch the magical 5 k mark (nothing I have written before came anywhere near that).

Geek that I am, I decided to celebrate by treating myself to a couple of graphs that tracked my progress.

I had two PTMs to attend yesterday, so took the day off. Managed to get a fair bit of writing done, and hit the 25% mark. By NaNoWriMo standards, not good at all - half the month gone, and only a quarter of the way to the 50k mark - but it is much more than I ever thought I would write. As per my current projections (current rate of writing, extrapolated to estimated size of work - I did tell you I was a geek, didn't I?) I'll finish between end-December and early-January. I know those projections are meaningless, because if I manage to keep up with my blog posts for the rest of the month, I would be pleasantly surprised.

BUT, finish the novel I am now determined to do, and isn't that wonderful in itself? Once I do, I can finally start calling myself a Writer!

And as of five minutes back, the story even has a tentative name - Lipsticks in the Board Room - takes no imagination to figure out where the story is set.

Drabble - Maroon

[This is a work of fiction. The characters and situations are purely imaginary, and any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.
The photograph only sets the tone for the colour]

He flung his arm on the seat behind her. It barely grazed her shoulder, but she was acutely conscious of him.

He’d made his move. She had to make hers.

Should she ignore it? Pretend she didn’t understand what he meant?
Should she respond, as her body was crying out at her to do?

He was a friend. Could they remain friends if she responded?
But every inch of her wanted him. Wanted him badly.

Whatever she did, could things remain the same? Why did relationships have to be so complicated?

She stared out of the window. Reached a decision….

_____
Drabble(n) - an extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.