Monday, November 20, 2006

People look like ants from up Here

We need help, the poet reckoned.
Edward Dorn

For the first time on this blog, I’m going to review something that I have written myself. This I do with two reasons in mind: one, that you can perhaps get the gist of my last published work and what it was about…how it came to be…etcetera; two, so that in reviewing my own work I can perhaps see its better shortcomings.

My last published work – People look like ants from up here – was almost completely completed when I was about 20. It was something that I wanted to use to get my foot in the door (and perhaps further) of the publishing world and hence it does exhibit a frenzied completion. I wrote some of the poems when I was around 14 and getting into literature heavily at my boarding school in India. In those days at school, I would have to sit for two hours everyday in prep time and complete the allotted homework of the day. Of course, your truly Romantic was not in immediate harmony with the education system and would spend the toiling and boiling hours of compulsion into creating art (no matter how absurd). Writing was the only thing I ever got claps for. I was a well known bibliophile in the school circuit and would win the short-story, poetry and essay competitions on a regular basis and would write love letters and speeches for friends. I loved writing. As far as I can remember, I never really had any ambition as such; astronauts, doctors, policemen…they may appear as role models to a six year old but to a sixteen year old mind their cons are more revealing. I worshipped the written text because it was my way of entering and leaving the world. My prep time writing would follow me into dawn as I sat in the freezing cold outside my dormitory composing satisfying nonsense. My English teacher would encourage me to write more and more till I felt like one of those helpless monkeys typing staggering works of Shakespearean genius. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait all eternity. Moving from my school in Ooty, India to Cardiff, Wales was a leap of sorts as I travelled in the Welsh valleys and edgily fulfilled the student dream of sex, drugs and rock n’roll. It was here and at this point in my life when I finally decided to contact a publisher to submit my manuscript. PublishAmerica came to the rescue and agreed to publish my first anthology. Cool. Here, I will give a brief synopsis of the work.

(To be continued…)

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