To Write about Irony
I’ve thinking quite hard for a while (for a while - is about an hour) what to write. Maybe it’s the fiction novel I’m reading right now that’s blocking the thoughts I generally get. Guess only a non-fiction book could help me pump out a regular blog I write every weekend.
That made me remind of the story I wanted to write couple of years ago. Not a blog, but a full fledged novel. Well, like every other reader, I too went through the phase of ‘I want to become a writer’ and built a thesis around the book I wanted to write. I did start writing it on a Google doc before I’ve realised I’m way worse of a fiction writer (Well, non-fiction writing? Am I good?) than I’ve imagined myself to be.
The story is about my present self meeting my younger self in a dark, damp room. We both hold a book each. My book contains the self I portray to everyone - confident, intelligent, empathetic etc. The kid on the other side says his book has the true meaning of me. He says the book I’m holding is a mask above my true self. But that kid doesn’t even let me have a peek into his book cause he’s too scared that I might judge him. It’s quite ironic to think about the fact that my own younger self is scared of being judged by older self. That Irony is what I wanted to write about.
I tried building upon this plot - where it starts, how it starts, where it goes. I could never think of an end. Though I tried to end the story even before I started writing, none of the ends I’ve thought through were satisfactory. It truly is like how Stephen King said “A story is not like a statue which you are going to carve. The story is already there somewhere in the rock buried. You are just uncovering it.”
As I’ve said, I neither had the guts nor the patience to convert it into a book. Guess the statue was never to be revealed then, or was not to be revealed by me. So, here I am, putting it out into the universe, so that someone might pull it out of the ground.