When routine is bust

Till sometime back I was a poet-writer and my routine would include:

  • Observing and enjoying
  • Enjoying and realising
  • Realising and musing
  • Musing and loving it
  • Loving it and researching
  • researching and getting bored or inspired
  • if inspired, writing; if bored, abandoning
  • OR simply writing without any of the above steps involved since all of it has been done before in the past

It was a good routine though it kept me physically inactive. It was a mental occupation and amused me no end.

Off-late, I have lost it, the pleasure of being in the writer’s mode. Time and again I get bored, perhaps to write because I have been wracking my brains to find some other mode to evolve but everything else always ends up being a fad. Writing sustains who I am, when will I accept it? Except because it doesn’t pay, I think it is useless air-head phenomena. But if it doesn’t pay I will hack it off my habit, come what may. Something else must pay. Then writing can be a part of me, as always.

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