Heart of a Writer

If only you knew that we’re all revolutions in the making”
                                                                                                -Meghana Kumar

Our Origin Story

As an amateur writer, I often wonder what drives this purposeful species I belong to. An idea trickles down the edge of our brains, picks a few choice words from the vocabulary aisle of the central nervous system and parades out as tiny ink soldiers determined to plant their footprints over the heart of the reader.

Yes, if you find a Pretentious-to-English dictionary, the previous sentence is basically trying to say that we, as writers, sometimes think of things so ingenious and brilliant that we fall just short of patenting it. So we do the next best thing.

We write about it.

All our lives, we’re condensing our thoughts and feelings and ideas into words. And more often than not, these words just land as stones on paper, like they’re paperweights or something. That’s not what I had in mind when I was told I could weigh in. We’re trying to find other hearts that might be open to reflect our stories. But, in our quest, we find that the words ricochet off the reader’s opaque heart. Again and again.

Our Character Developments

Well, that’s how we all started out. And then we were told that we could relocate to this magical place of mutual co-dependence and shared benefits. Society, it was christened. The only currency it ran on was Acceptance. Everyone wanted more of this acceptance stuff and they were willing to put their souls through a societal stencil even when it meant that sometimes the ideas their brains were meant to manufacture would remain filtered out.

This wave of renaissance definitely affected the writer clan as well. We started writing about things that people yearned to hear about.

Ten ways to cure depression with lemon juice.

Thirteen ways to take over the world before your cat does.

Nineteen shows to watch when you have finished watching all the 52 sitcom recommendations your roommate once downloaded.

Hahaha, you tried to click.

And eventually, we started conforming to standards set by expectations of a reader with absolutely minimum attention span. We started catering to them, because they were our biggest consumers. We had to keep them happy. We had to keep the economy running. The only currency functional was acceptance! We had to write about things that made them curious and then magnanimously underwhelm them just like every Valentine’s Day plan ever. (No, I did not have a date.) (No, I am not sour about it.) (No, I did not write about it in my Diary.) (Yes, writers can totally get dates.)

So, our species turned to writing filler articles, click-baiting Facebook addicts as they surf their seventh favorite celebrity’s timeline for the twelfth time that day, for no good reason.

Our Impending Revolution

Unexplored ideas, unfinished thought experiments, truncated sagas hover helplessly in the interstices of our brains and simply return a failed simulation when we attempted to sync it to real world.

Prospective revolutions are now silent mutinies against the threat of social acceptance.

A revelation came as swift and crackling as a lightning as I picked up my chunky, clunky, faithful laptop of four years and confided in it my dreams of writing more of what originated in my heart and less like an E! News special on fashion disasters.

So, if all has turned out great, then my musings and rantings were approved by The Daily Bitsian’s editorial board, and you’re probably reading this now, wow, that is so exciting, do you realize I am breaking the fourth wall, right now?

Our Hearts

People make observations everyday and design their own implications, inferences, theories, conceptions, and conclusions around it. Writers are just people who manage to put all of that into a text file or make really good use of deforestation.

You’re a writer.

You are.

If only you looked inside your heart, you’d find an avalanche of hidden, suppressed ideas that are strangled with the fear of being socially unacceptable.

I say, untangle them all.

Write about something original today, that might just set off the next revolution. Write about what you really think. You could make being socially acceptable the new socially unacceptable.

You may just have the power for that.

If only you were ready to see that you have a heart of a writer.

(Editor: Do send your attempts to thedailybitsian@gmail.com 😛

We’ve got editors and writers who’d be glad to help you out with putting your ideas on paper. You can co-author with us, or send your article for edits. We’ll help find a place for your idea to stand out in a world of virtual junk and cluttered content.)


Meghana Kumar

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3 thoughts on “Heart of a Writer

  1. A handshake, way too formal.
    A hug; I refrained from leaning in on account of fear that if I hug her, it would reveal my affection for her, that I wouldn’t let her go, that I would have lingered, smelled her hair and that would be disclosing too much, all too soon. I love mystery, and as far as I know, she loves it too. So we just said “Bye!” two-three times. She waved her hand and I watched her go for as long as I could, for mere three steps before she turned around.
    The wind carried a distinct Pilani December’s chill with it. I turned to head to my empty hostel and felt sedated. My persistent melancholy coalesced to a newfound mellow euphoria. For life is a painting, but we live in a pixel, and with her each pixel was bright.

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