MADNESS
How Not To Succeed In Writing
Do not do what I am doing
I have diagnosed myself. I am mad. I must be a stark, raving lunatic. My brain is a confused jumble of uninsulated cables. If you see me around anywhere, please lock me up and throw away the key. As Pink Floyd sang, long before most of you readers were even born — “there’s someone in my head but it’s not me!”
This has happened in the last couple of months. I don’t need to go to a shrink because I know what the etiology is. And the cause is — Medium.
For the past two months I have been staring at a flickering computer screen pumping out words that make no sense. All because I have been following the advice of the great sages — Samra, Misbah and Zulie.
According to them I should write, write and write till I bleed into the laptop. What I write does not matter. Simply churn out at least 1000–2000 words per day.
So I took out the dictionary and started from the letter — A. I have copied verbatim each and every word from there — syntaxes, syllables, prefixes and suffixes — you name it, I have it. Thus far I have reached the letter ‘C.’
