The right way to write
By Adil Jussawalla

THOSE who don’t write for a living generally believe that those who do write for a living do nothing but write. The image of someone sitting at a desk, working on an article or a story or a novel or a play day after day, night after night, is a seductive one. But it’s a false image.

It’s true that from time to time writers, like other professional people, go through periods of hard, continuous work. There are sleepless nights, just as there are sleepless days, often related to rewriting texts before seemingly impossible deadlines. But writing generally takes up a small part of a writer’s day. And even that small part, say three or four hours, may produce nothing.

That isn’t necessarily due to lack of discipline, though sometimes it is. It’s just that words sometimes behave like the taps in your flat — they dry up suddenly. And nothing you do, like hammering on the walls of your chest, punching yourself on the nose or kicking yourself in the arse can get them running. You’re stuck.

It doesn’t happen too often. If it did, where would be the pleasure of seeing a piece of writing take shape before your eyes, where would be the addiction to that pleasure, which, despite the frequent pain of writing, makes you go back to it?

All the same, the writing of a writer’s day is a small part of that day. The rest of the day goes in tackling mundane, commonplace, frequently unpredictable matters. And contrary to popular belief, most of the writers I know, especially poets, deal with such matters practically, enthusiastically and efficiently.

Poets aren’t writers who write for a living though all the poets I know wish they could. More accurately, all the poets I know wish their poems brought them more money. At the same time, they would like to go on doing the work they do at present, which is their other source of income.

I know that Gieve Patel wouldn’t give up his medical practice even if he were promised a lakh for every poem he wrote. Nor would Arvind Krishna Mehrotra stop teaching at the University of Allahabad if a similar promise came his way. Other poets freelance for magazines and newspapers. Still others apply for grants or fellowships which may help them carry on for a year or two. They won’t cut off these sources of income easily, even if they become millionaires.

It makes sense, its practical. Royalties and an income through writing alone are a precarious business. Writers have always known this which is why much of a writer’s day is spent in thinking about ways of making money. Writers are very practical about it, which isn’t what their readers generally believe. — ANF