A lot of us write. And it is our go-to coping mechanism with the world. Sometimes it gets too noisy. The world and the duties in it attribute to chaos and sometimes nuisance. Art, poetry and writing is our life jumping timeline from survival mode to living.

We work hard for surviving and art is living it.

Journaling or drawing helps to vent out feelings and access our trauma that is never allowed to be accessed. We live with it. Always. And when in a rare occasion we come face to face with it, it overbears us. We are enemies of our own feelings. And writing helps process that whole thing in a perception you never thought existed.

I like writing fiction. I have not published them (God knows I am halfway there) but I love creating fictional towns and cities and the stories that persist in it. Let me tell you I am not a dystopian writer either. A perfect blend, a middle-path of fantasy and reality gives the right balance to the story.

The beauty of it? Everyone can relate to it. Because it is not far away from reality. As a writer, you sometimes get to play god. Who gets Karma? Who lives? Who survives? Who doesn’t? It is all there and you get to decide how your story is going to mold. It is a rhythm of life, gently humming life into everything we do.

I have written about things that were difficult for me. In fantasy, you often change your reality. You get to change the outcomes. You get to play the director. And so, I feel in doing that I get to lose the trauma that generally holds me back. I may or may not face it. I may never face it. But my books and the stories that I write hold the testament of a fulfillment.

I guess god is a bully after all (just joking). He gives powers to writers. But then he makes sure that they are royally twisted into something even they dont understand. So when they write – mostly everyone thinks “Yes, this is her. Or is she?”

Why do you write – maybe we can exchange notes.