Skip to main content
Writer's life

I always love to read ' how a writer writes and achieves'. It is my hidden interest to know the writers. On this journey I could know that, they all are more or less like us. They writes what they know and research wherever a story demands. That's all. But, important thing is , they writes and this is their penance. So, cheers...
Go on writing what you know, may it be in computer, paper, note book or in cards. But, important thing is first of all create the outline of the story like a perfect story teller.  Take little time and back to your school days to read grammar book and find ready made outlines and develop some story. That will definitely work.Write with love and interest as you are telling some story to your close friend.

~happy writing~

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The chirps

 Listened the chirps of morning birds, waked up, life seemed easy... Life of a writer is not  easy. Writing is hard. Self doubts will make you cripple.  Self learning is most important.  ************** Give food to birds. They will be happy. The sun is rising up and up and on  it's journey. ***** Ideas are cunning. They always play hide and seek game.  *****  Brainstorming is difficult. 

Changes, the part of life

  The day jumps in the lap of night and passes the threshold of dusk. Life becomes still beautiful, accepting changes and welcoming new civilisation and welcoming new people to act as per their luck perhaps. How could problems around us be stopped as those are part of changes? So it would be better to accept and walk on.  Civilization changes and people change. Changes is  their way of life. No one can stop.

The Chirps

  Under the blue sky, I could do many things for survival. I was in fear. The brown kite was soaring around. Its wings were massive, and I recalled the day when it was about to jump over me and catch me. Thanks to that old lady of the rooftop garden. I hid myself under her newly curated green plants, and her presence there saved me. Now this rooftop garden became my home, and I chirp here for the old lady whom I have heard that my chirps were a song for her.