By nature, I am a curious person. I love asking questions, and I love fighting myself to obtain unconventional answers, especially when the answers challenge me.
What is honor, and does it even matter anymore?
Is trust more important than love, or is it the other way around?
Am I playing games with myself in which the rules are preventing me from reaching my goals?
At some point in my life, these questions and answers started to burden my heart such that if I didn’t express myself somehow, I would explode. I took to the fictional world for finding answers -- I began writing stories. I spun characters and situations, etched in new worlds and lives that exploded off the pages from the scratches of my pen, and -- at the base of everything -- I toyed with those questions. Which would my character appreciate more: an untrustworthy lover or a trustworthy hater? Did the happy ending come from trust or love?
Dawson Trotman once said, “Thoughts disentangle themselves when they pass through the lips and the fingertips.” He was correct. Writing has taught me to better understand and articulate my opinions. It has forced me to truly understand my speculations, defend them, and then change them when necessary. Moreover, I have learned to understand and accept other people’s opinions as well. This is why writing lies at the core of my heart. This passion is behind my many actions and attributes, a trusty puppeteer guiding me. It has shaped my personality and train of thought in a way no other activity has managed to do. Writing forced discipline in my life. Sitting quietly in an empty room with a blank page required authority and I strongly attribute my early publishing success to it as I published my very first book, Crossing Red Lights, before I turned 15.
Writing may have been a gateway to decipher the queries in my head, but it was also a ladder to climb out under from being crouched at the center of an unforgiving Euler Diagram. As a Desi-American, trying to escape the walls that confine me, writing has taught me to jump over those walls and see the world beyond the three circles I was bound to. It taught me to take a step back from my life and my beliefs, to try to experience the lives of those around me. Writing has taught me to look at the world with adjusting eyes. This habit made communicating with others so much more joyful and fulfilling, whether it be when I networked with my readers or when I worked with patients at the hospitals in which I volunteered. Every relationship, every thought, every word held a special meaning to me. And so I stood in all sorts of shoes, some small, some large, some brand-new and shining with glory, others worn to the sole and waiting for brighter paths to traverse -- it changed everything about my outlook on the world.
When I wrote about people who were unlike me, I explored different places, met new people, and faced new situations. Even as I explored the nooks and crannies of others, I found myself... I found what I stood for. Once I began writing stories to answer questions, I began to think about life and the thoughts that shape it, which in turn made me intentionally ponder over who I was becoming and whether that was consistent with what I desired most.
As I sit quietly at night, rushing to get all my ideas out of my head and tattooed on paper, I take a moment to thank the art of writing, which made me who I am today. Without my stories, perhaps all the insight or perspective I’ve gained would be lost and trapped between the lines of my tales to be. However, as hard as it is to cast a spell on paper to make my characters dance, it is too tantalizing to stop -- I wouldn’t even if I could.
