Let me for a moment imagine, that I had not written this book. I am standing in some bookshop, and attracted by it’s random title, I pick it up. I, then go through its preface to judge whether this book will speak to me or not. The preface might elicit a smile in me, but thinking that I have only 100 bucks to spare I’d go with the safer option of buying another RK Narayan novel.
Yes, I wouldn’t have bought my own book had I not known it was a big classic. Why risk money and time, on a new author who will not give you a guarantee of some intellectual and emotional stimulation.
But, then I have managed to make it to the bookstores. And, since I have made it till here, I’ll share what I wrote years ago as a 20 year old kid, who basically wanted to be a writer-A respected one. Sharing this (if ever I am published) was a mental promise I made to myself, when I wrote it.
I sometimes have daydreams about giving interviews to a big literary journal and then signing autographed copies of my own book. Everything done with a cool look that will show that all this doesn’t affect me, I’m an artist.
I am reminded of this book I published in school(printed out and photocopied basically) out of my blog. And called it, ‘Not Quite Literature’ which even now I think was appropriate for the book since my first few years in writing were spent in writing completely lame posts about school life, which then I thought was a masterpiece of comedy.
I made copies and gave it out free to my classmates (especially girls)and in about a week or so, one of the copies went to my class teacher who spread it around in the staff room. (Teachers were slammed in general in the book.) Shit scared as I was, the writer in me was happy. I felt somewhat like Salman Rushdie, and told my friends about freedom of expression.
The book was shit, but thank god they didn’t throw it in the dustbin or anything because that would have really broken my heart. For a day at least.
That’s it. I think it is now time for you to turn the page.