Showing posts from February 20, 2012

Richard Bach and My Angel's Call

The reason to write a word is an angel’s call. You are that angel; you—the reader. You say, or I think, once or at any point in time, any one of you might walk in and read a page, a word, or a period I have written or a space I have left untouched and say this is it, this is the moment. The anticipation of this moment is what makes a writer write. But this, what one calls inspiration or motivation or what ever, thought vanishes at the first sight of an unpleasant day in the family or with wife, if the writer is married. The significance of forming a part of this chain of the cosmic connectivity gets transformed into a vile energy to triumph over the trivialities of the family, in the clash between the people he or she had thought of dying for, but who at the moment trying to slaughter the writer at any cost.

This fight lasts until the writer has exhausted almost all his energy. Then what remains in his battered mind is the frustration of spending the whole day, which was the gift from…