I started 2025 with a simple goal: improve my writing skills. Lofty! I was glad, though. Unlike most times in the past, at least this time I was aware of the challenge.
When I was younger, I was a fool. I have no shame in accepting that today. Why? I was somehow convinced that no matter what I did, I would succeed. Arrogant and haughty, that’s what I was. Whatever jobs or businesses I did, I did them without putting any real effort into them. I had no patience or the will to apply myself fully. Most things I began with great enthusiasm, but when the time came to roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty, I lost all energy and only did the bare minimum. I had dreams of grandeur, but not the will to make them come true. Indolent, that is how I would describe my past self. But Indolence breeds failure. And that is what I had to show for decades of work—an endless string of failed ventures and jobs.
But then one day, everything changed. Through a series of unfortunate events, the universe knocked me back and gave me a powerful wakeup call. I finally saw myself, call it a bird’s eye view, for who I really was and what I had become. All my illusions of myself were dispelled. I was angry, sad, and even offended at myself. I fell into despair. Depression followed—deep, dark, and tarry depression.
But gradually, through all that darkness, my perspective began to change, glacial at first. I soon understood that I was truly lucky. Many people live their entire lives never realizing the illusion drawn over their eyes. I sat in front of the mirror and began talking to myself. I assessed myself with clarity, depth, and honesty. I accepted who I was. And then a realization dawned upon. The past was not in my control; it was beyond me. However, the future was within my grasp. I had the power to shape it however I wanted. I could be whoever I wanted to be. If I chose to be a sloth again, I would be aware that I willfully chose to be one and I would’ve no one to blame for the consequences.
Fast-forward to 2025. When I began this year, I was prepared to give every minute, every second to achieving my goal.
I knew the only way forward was through continuous, relentless effort. Every waking and sleeping minute, my entire being worked toward achieving mastery in one thing and one thing alone, writing.
At this point, I owe the reader clarity. The root of my motivation to write is not to sell books, make a fortune, or gain fame. When I say writing, what I really mean is the expression of the human soul.
In all my years, with wisdom that has come to me and that I have gathered, I come to know that expression of the soul is supreme; it is the only thing worth pursuing. Everything else—recreation, reproduction, legacy, materialism, fame, fortune—they are all distractions.
But expression is easier said than done. Authentic expression is elusive. Yes, many copy, mimic, feign, and fake it, and it is also true that the world may not recognize such artifice, endowing such artists with laurels and praises. However, social validation does not lead to that most primordial, most singular form of inner satisfaction. Only true expression can bestow such ecstasy, the rapture upon the soul.
To have true expression, one must become skilled in the craft.
And so, when I began this year, my goal was to become the master of my craft. To that end, I created a grueling regimen of reading, writing, speaking, and reflecting.
The first step, speaking and diction, was the easiest, but the most difficult to put into action. I stopped talking in any language other than English. I stopped using Hindi as a filler language. And this forced me to think and respond in one language. The silver lining in all this was that I didn’t miss Hindi all that much, as my mother tongue is Malayalam.
The next step was to begin reading even more voraciously. A good writer reads a lot. This advice is the most obvious one, but the least followed one. From the start of this year until now, I’ve read more than 40 books. And I loved each and every one of them!!!
To practice writing, I wrote short stories almost every day on Substack, mastering the art of first-person narration.
I created notes for myself, I catnapped and daydreamed, introspecting, imbibing, analyzing everything I read and wrote. I paid attention to the words I had always assumed—wrongly, at most times—the meaning of, I understood the plot devices authors used, and I dissected the voice, tone, temperament, cadence, and style of writing. I cut out every form of distraction, every other attention-seeking digital parasite from my life.
Resolution, gravity, enthusiasm, and industriousness are the qualities that my effort carries.
And lastly, to ensure my journey towards mastery of my craft always had a favorable environment, I created an atmosphere of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.
After all those months of intense effort, I began writing my second novel in the first week of October. And I must say, I am enjoying every moment of writing this story.
My second novel is the story of a woman fighting to be reunited with the love of her life in a hostile, post-apocalyptic world. This story is less about the crumbling world and more about the protagonist’s journey and the metamorphosis she undergoes. This story explores the truest, most profound, most unpolluted understanding of love, just like that single green sapling in the middle of a vast landfill.
I am halfway done with the first draft. Wish me luck with the rest!
