I was averse to begin my tryst with the
role as a writer with my autobiography, for two reasons.
Firstly, I did not find the material
for the book interesting. There was nothing dramatic or captivating
about my life or my career. It was a run-of-the-mill kind of topic.
Secondly, by stating truth on several
issues, I did not want to lose the few relations and friends I happened to have
and speak the truth I must, if I undertook to write my autobiography. I let it
rest, the best way, in my case, to win friends and influence people!
Dale Carnegie would turn in his grave, if he read this!
Was I being dishonest? Maybe. Was I
frightened? Maybe. Was I being disloyal to the cause of free writing? Maybe.
The simple truth is I was already plagued
by diffidence and lack of self-confidence vis-à-vis the new cap I was
going to don. I did not want to begin the arduous journey on a disastrous note,
I mean story, when I was not confident whether I could handle the task at all.
After discussing with my guardian angel and
telling her unequivocally that I would not be beginning with my autobiography,
I pondered for several days. My primary concern was whether I could sustain my writing
skills, expression, etc. over the length of a long story, a novel. I
decided to take up a topic, albeit oft repeated, and test my alleged skills
against it. Thus, I embarked upon my first-ever novel, which I would later
christen “Dance of Life”.
Wait for my next blog to learn how I grappled
with my “Dance of Life”.
Be seeing you...
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