To Write Or What To Write - That Is the Question

June 25, 2009
2:30am


Books. They are the bloodline of our family. You see them in our living room, in the bedroom, in the kitchen and yes, even in the bathroom. We as a family, go to the malls and spend hours in the bookstore. In fact, many of times, it’s the only purpose to go to a mall. I saw books before I saw toys as a child. We talk about books in overseas calls. We write each other letters about books. We mail books to each other. Books connect us. Then I thought to myself, “what the use? e-books will take over the world, I should just blog instead ( which I already do), but then, I thought, but those are not books, at least not the books I saw my parents holding before I slept and upon waking up”. I should be able to wake up with them in the morning, under my pillow or beside my feet.

I’ve always wanted to write a book but I couldn’t figure out what it should be about. I wanted to write to express myself, in my own element – books, reading and writing. It’s not so much of earning money doing what I love ( but I sure don’t mind), since I’m already doing that in teaching.

I had many ideas in my head. I wanted to write about the holy people I’ve met in my life and in my travels. Then I wanted to write storybooks for children and for my daughter on spirituality. I also wanted to write about my journey in and out of depression. But today, I wanted to write about what I’ve realized and how those realization helped me from the point of view of a young adult who is just started her family, is building on a career and is learning to celebrate herself.

I want to write a book that is raw. I would like it to be a book where I am transparent with my flaws and moments of inspiration; A book where people can relate with just being human and I don’t have to worry about being judged either as flaky or crazy. The biggest pressure I could already think of ( yes, it is a human gift to be able to imagine stress), is having to live up to stuffs I’ve realized and many of times forget it myself. If only I could find a way to write what I believed, how it helped me once, how it can help me again and how every now and then I forget and hope that the process of writing becomes a reminder to me again. Who would like to read a book from an author who can not walk her talk? I hope to find readers who can understand, that we often forget but have always known- and it is okay. I hope they can read something that’s just raw, something that just seems to be out of an unedited journal scribbled on a bus stand- something real. I don’t want it to be a “holier than thou” book, but I don’t want it to be falsely humble as well. I just want it to be real, for the sake of self expression and to share the gift of authenticity and yet inform that I can still be phony at times and not know what to do. I want them to feel that it’s okay, to be eaten rotten by one’s ego because we always go back to that state of remembrance when we are shaken hard enough out of our wits.

I’d like it to be a book on my life; Every chapter randomly on anything that matters to me. I want it to be a book on a 33 year old young lady who feels trapped between adolescence and adulthood; A human being who has experienced moments of great inspiration; A person who has known darkness and despair. Someone who has learned to forgive but still knows how to be hurt.

I want it to be like just following someone’s blog, someone’s journey that never ends. That is, a journey that can spiral up or spiral down or get stuck and that any which way is okay, since there is no destination.

I would like the reader’s to feel okay about their own journeys – their pains, their triumphs, their flat lifeless boring days as well as their moments of inspiration. I have read books that after I have closed it, I can close my eyes, sigh, secretly smile and say to myself – I am not alone. I’d like that feeling to be generated in people who will read my book. Will I write it? Will I not? I may psychoanalyze myself or just drop it. Maybe, I’ll write tomorrow, or next year or after this paragraph is over. I don’t know. I’ll make up my mind when I want to. At least, in this space, I want to be free to be me.

I was inspired by Maria Shriver's book that my dad picked from the Book Sale store (see picture above). It was honest, raw, down to earth and above all - very simple. I was moved into momentum by a feature article on young people living their dreams in one of the Indian magazines that we brought for my father home.

Where do I start now? Which chapter of my life do I begin with? Maybe I should start on dedication, now that's easier. What should it be on? The roles that I play? The things I am and not passionate about? My history? My dreams? My family? My relationships? On God? It can go on forever! Or maybe that’s what life is – it goes on forever and never ends.