Jaipur Literature Festival 2013

The litfest was a wit feast. Not bad looking either, with blue balloons, orange decorations, colorful shamianas. Somak Ghoshal's article in Mint helped me figure who I should be watching out for and they did not disappoint.

I also looked at speaker profiles for more hints. This post is a collection of my tweets and fellow tweeters helped me keep track of the sessions where I couldn't be as I didn't have a clone or two. Day 1 began with rushing at 9 AM to the venue and the reward was no line for the pass :)

After suffering through the inevitable opening speeches by everyone and their dogs I made a beeline for the Google Mughal tent where there was a session on The Global Shakespeare. Elif Batuman spoke about how Turkish women put up a production of Hamlet, calling it Hamid!

Tim Supple was also good, pointing out how Indian local theatre forms emphasise more on the ancient. In the West the tendency is more to make fairies in Midsummer Night's Dream punks. So Shakespeare's ancient parts blend well with Indian theatre traditions. Then I hopped over to the Zoe Heller session where the question answer session had begun.

After some idlis from Garden Cafe to soothe a tummy that had gotten up early, I was ready for more fuel for thought. The afternoon session on The Art of The Short Story saw Yiyun Li make an interesting point- we always talk about show not tell, but we are storytellers...Very true. Storytelling involves craft, otherwise it would be closer to journalism, I guess.

Poet Simon Armitage's session was ribtickling. His reading of You're Beautiful was... beautiful and hilarious. His deadpan one liners kept us in splits. Writing a novel is too much like a job, so I'm going to stick to poetry, he said. I agree. Poetry is all about style, so you need to develop your own voice, he also said. I agree with that too.

Next up was funny man Howard Jacobson in a session on The Novel of The Future. The standard themes began to emerge- will the digital form kill the novel?

I gave the first session on Day 2 a miss out of consideration for my ears. Laughing, Weeping, Writing saw a lot of laughing certainly. I had wanted to attend a Gary Shteyngart session after seeing his antics on Twitter and he did not disappoint. "I tell my story to a shrink and if he laughs I know I've got a good one," has got to be one of the immortal quips of the festival.

Deborah Moggach pointed out that a novel is a noun, a film a verb- a succint way of getting the difference between the two across. Manu Joseph read a funny excerpt from his novel, which ended with a school kid writing Sita is the opposite of Ram :)

A quick shopping trip to nearby Bapubazar for Jaipuri bedcovers to satisfy my friends visiting from Delhi and a bite at Anokhi- we were back. Shabana Azmi's session was packed, as expected so entry had stopped. I did stumble on a book launch by her, Javed Akhtar and Prasoon Joshi after that, which led me to discover Amit Khanna's Anant Raag, which seems promising poetry.

Ariel Dorfman and Santiago Roncagliolo put up a rollicking session on Latin America. Very magic realist. How to Read Donald Duck by Dorfman is now on my reading list.

The Jewish Novel with my favorites Gary Shteyngart and Howard Jacobson followed. Their banter had us rolling in the aisles. Howard Jacobson pointed out that you can only be funny if your life is tragic, hinting at schadenfreude, to my mind.

My stomach finally collapsed so I had to give Day 3 a miss. I tried to catch the webcast but the slow net at home and the iffy webcast ensured that I depended on twitter.

I only went for the Michael Sandel session on Day 4. Is sexual violence linked to sectarian violence? A thought provoking question, but there were no easy answers from the audience.

So I was hungry for thought bytes on the last day, after my near two day drought. Howard Jacobson was funny as usual. The line for getting books signed by him was by now a mile long- guess people who heard him on the first few days were impatient for a keepsake.

Wade Davis then speculated on whether Mallory did reach the summit of Everest. He didn't think so, as Mallory didn't carry the required equipment. A long shot- if snow had helped create a slope on the second ridge he could have climbed the mountain...

Sebastian Faulks quipped that journalists were taxonomists, always wanted to pigeonhole everything...not far wrong, mesays. He felt that highlight one man's reaction to a woman walking in a room would be more impactful than just saying the room took a collective breath when she walked in. Makes sense. His inspiration was France, not England. Such a different culture, just a few miles away. It's interesting how the exotic can inspire you to write, although many say one should write on what one knows. Supriya Nair's mouthwatering boots set off Sebastian Faulks's suit nicely, leading me to tweet What suits are to men, boots are to women :)

Volunteers bagged front row seats for Sharmila Tagore for the closing debate. After the lengthy thank you speech, there was a cursory debate. Nathulal's deafening drum rolls would drown out loquacious speakers promptly.

Frank Savage was so scared of overshooting his four minutes he ended early. Michael Sandel spoke well, saying that altruism was like a muscle, which would strengthen with use.

These five days were the only Test match I've attended. I hope to be back next year from January 17-20, when Margaret Atwood, Amartya Sen, Yaan Martell, Mark Haddon, Umberto Eco and other yummy writers will be here. Otherwise, I'll just catch the videos, I guess. But Walter Benjamin's Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction applies to litfests too- the pain of attending the live session makes it seem worth it :)

So am glad to have discovered some fine new writers and while I get around to reading their work, some of them are on twitter..@bananakarenina's intriguing handle (Elif) lived up to her promise in the sessions. When she tweeted that she would miss India, I replied that we'd miss her too. She's favorited my tweet, so I think visiting writers have fallen in love with Jaipur and the other way round : )

Writing down my bones

There is bright, warm light streaming in through my window. It falls in a rectangular, sectioned pool on my marbled floor, warming me while I sit on my bed. It merges with my yellow bedspread.Like a shy bride, I cannot look directly at the sun.
Today there is light. The light coming through my door has no such grid. It falls freely, a rectangle big enough to cover me as I write. It doesn’t come everyday and when it comes it is not warm always.
I can cross the grid on the shadow of the window easily; it’s the other way round with real life problems. My mind magnifies them, when in reality they can be crossed.
The window light is about six feet by three feet. It cuts up the tiles even more. I saw a section of light in my kitchen, as if it was being carried by an invisible pipe.
The window’s the vessel through which the sun pours in, filtering, sieving it before it hits me. As I look at it through my hair, I see strands of my hair too seem lighter. The light moves, forcing me to move my bed too, like a sunflower I too am a sun follower, I flow where the sun flows.

Plotting

I am so excited about my WIP! Holly Lisle's tips on plotting worked like a charm- for the first time ever, I have a plot! Yay! I read the tip, think it sounds too complicated, do it like she shows me, and it works. Last night I wrote for 45 minutes, probably the longest I've done prose for. Didn't bore myself either, in fact surprised myself. Not knowing where I was going had led to dead ends in the past. This way, I wrote 400 words- one scene. This DIY author is highly reccomended. I used her free ebook on plotting.

Day 1

Aargh! Nothing's working. My Excel sheet got me less than 1 grand, adopt a plot got me less than half a grand. At least the gyan I read about being able to identify with MCs came in useful, as it led to my abandoning my adopted plot. I felt like writing a humourous story, so I've started that, but it's not funny so far.. and less than half a grand.

Have discovered I write in bursts, by the seat of my pants. At least poetry- even if it's just about my day- has that theme. But it's fun to be able to put keyboard to screen. Now all I have to do is say something meaningful:)

But it's a huge kick to see that dot on your graph- you've already done a grand, and are more than half way through to the next one!

Of course having bonsais is a bit of a downer when the idea is to grow a plant...let's see..

Maybe I can develop the plot as the story goes along..I love it when the story surprises you.

Novemberthon

Am doing Nano. Wish me luck.

Thank you.

Mephisto's Manifesto

I'm really enjoying and learning a lot at the Muse Online Writers' Conference. Writing a novel no longer seems that scary. Using Excel to plot it, is the way I prefer to use Excel:) Although trying to blog everyday has helped me discipline myself as a writer, the flip side is that while writing sometimes, my blog style comes to me sometimes.

Still, I've managed to plot my novel's outline, logline and main characters' characteristics. I'm going to get down to writing everyday now, even if it's only 500 words a day- so that in some months I will have something substantial to look at.

Another spur is a coaching session with one of the writers at the conference- to discuss my problems with her, I need to write and have problems first:)

Although I read that core competency is at work in writing too- which is why Eliot is known more for poetry- it's difficult to imagine him as a novelist- at least one novel is in everyone.

As a couple of people a couple of years ago told me to write a book, I think I need to.

Last time I started, I ended up with a short story.

This time, I'm observing life around me from a writing point of view. Also, looking at writing differently- analysing while reading: why does this description work here, how has this author managed to hold reader interest.

All this also impacts my life- if a character is supposed to develop by the end of a novel, one does think of how one has developed(or not) over the years.

I had also forgotten writing's function of cohesion- now when I try to string my story together, I see the connections more clearly. Still have to get around to the imagination bit though.

In that sense, my poetry draws from life. I'm planning to experiment a bit with form now. Let's see.

Hopefully, putting this up will further motivate me to get going.

You hearing me, subconscious?

Need to work together again..:)

De ja voo

Enjoyed myself as usual at Caferati.

Also, giving gyan to someone who's in the same boat as i was a couple of years ago.

On life, the universe and everything

It's important to meet your hero in the magic minutes of the morning. That's when the dream world changes in the real world. That's when you can try and make the real world the real world.
No need to write The Great Global Novel ( Pun unintended) in one day flat.
The world's a global village.Provincial in ideas. It needs something to hold on to if there isn't someone to hold one to.
I usually bathe at leisure. Today the thoughts banged on my skull, demanding to be let out and live. A different kind of headbanging.
One can't write in the dream world. one can only write about the real world at length, about how it should be the real world.
In writing, one has to lose the I . Because one has to make it interesting. Make the reader and the writer both live, and thereby want to live.
It is a schizophrenic world. One must try not to let it split one in half.