(Absolutely nothing in life, can be compared to this remarkable journey from blogging to writing a novel. It’s a story of knowing myself as a storyteller, a learner, a listener, and a crafter. In this blog I share the splendid moments that marked this journey of being a novelist)
I hate writing advisory articles. Not that I have ever written one, or plan to write, I somehow hate to tread that path. And only after scores of friends and readers asked me to pen something about my journey from being a blogger to novelist, I got down to sink in this idea of probably writing my first advisory piece. I am a consultant by day, and even in that role, try my best to keep to the more traversed paths of drawing empirical evidences, underlying philosophies and insights. And so, yeah, a big no to ‘off the bounce’ advices. And in this blog too, I will keep to my journey and the many questions I have been posed about the book and my spur for writing a forbidden love story.
The first chapter, an unending passion
I’m sure you won’t be surprised if I say writing the first chapter is the most difficult part of a long journey called novel. Let me pour in a little of editorial advice I got – ‘most readers put down your book, after reading the first chapter, and quite a majority in this majority, after reading the first few pages’. In a novel that is destined to be more character led than narration led, the first chapter should be more ‘tell all, mince no words’ tale. As a writer, I was asked to pour in my individuality in this chapter.
My novel ‘The Other Guy’ starts with a sex scene, and just three pages after that I reveal the gay identity of the protagonists. My editor’s remarks ‘hide no emotions’ came hard and I chose to conceal it all, and as the book reads ‘chose candour over coy’.
Giving a title to the first chapter, that could express the theme of the novel, was another hard put. The idea of keeping it ‘The incomplete man’ came from an advertisement. I remember that moment well, I was in a bus, huddled, when this thought struck me. That was a moment, I was literally, living my work.
“In the last few days waking really hurt, a sullen feeling overcoming me. Mornings are just cold reminders of being alone, another day to drag through. It takes time to be my other self, to unclothe myself from my nightwear, in which I was me, and get into my day attire, in which I am as others perceive and define me – the unreal me. By the time I dress and become the sleek, polished guy in the mirror, I have donned the role I have to play the whole day.
I am gay; I sleep with my boyfriend at night and live the life of a ‘straight’ guy during the day. Looking into the mirror, I see myself; my predicament stares back at me.”
From chapter 1, ‘The Other Guy’