I have nothing particular to say but now that I am home and online, I want to write something. If only for the sake of writing; I still want to write something because I know I will then be able to go to sleep with some sense of satisfaction.

Today has been a strangely dissatisfying day. I spent the last half hour trying to analyze why – you must have experienced those times when you feel a constant worrying din in your head but can’t figure out the source of that noise? I hate that feeling – the mind keeps going back to it mindlessly; like the tongue seeking out a sore tooth. Anyway, I have been in that state for quite some time today – think I have figured out why but haven’t yet figured out a way to pat myself into a state of calm. My best bet is to spew it out in words.

I can feel myself getting into that rut of mindless thinking again – the kind that consistent late night at work drives you to. How I long for the holidays. I am hoping I can do something worthwhile then.

These days I catch myself thinking up a story line more often than ever. I have been thinking – a lot of wishful fantasizing could well develop into a good story. I only need to put my mind to it; rather I need to stop being such a lazy thinker and start putting things to paper.

Yesterday I got to talking to someone about magic. He maintained that magic is only another name for anything we cannot explain. It started me thinking about magic in ways I never had before.

If one dissects the word ‘magic’ scientifically, I suppose his definition is true. In fact I could not refute his argument nor come up with an alternative explanation. It however struck me that the word is filled with something else. It’s not just what it seems to be. It’s swollen with mystery and beauty and romance and divinity, nature, creation … it’s such a beautiful word that a definition like that does to death.

Talking about creation led me to thinking about writing – now writing is something magical. One can be grammatically correct, use all the right words at the right place and have a vast vocabulary on display, and yet not produce a spark of life in the writing. On the other hand I see some very simple writing come alive with a life of its own. This is magic – simplicity and beauty combined.

I am a complete romantic – creation in any form seems magical to me, though it may be explained, though it may be simulated in test tubes, though it may be represented through formulae. The magic here lies not in the explanations or the discoveries but in the process of discovery and eventually the joy that it brings. I guess it is the process that is magical and the end result, the beautiful creation. A spark exists amidst it all that seems elusive though we may have explained away the world. Its this elusiveness that is magic.

I am still reading books on writing by popular authors to get inspired. I am currently reading “Sometimes the Magic works” - by Terry Brooks. It’s a great book to read to understand what goes on during the writing process. Apparently it’s not all divine inspiration – there’s a lot of work involved and an understanding of the craft.
The little snippets of time I get during the day is spent day dreaming about the day I will start writing rather than the actual writing. I spend close to 3 hours travelling to and from work and this is when I get some ideas that could be worked on … but it seems to dissipate as soon as I reach home. I get to watching movies or start reading books on writing or books on famous authors. I sometimes wonder if that’s all I will do.