Memories

I am falling. No, it’s neither in love nor asleep, but into a black hole. I have always known that I would have to write about myself. Now that I have to, I fear that whatever it is I write, nothing may be as virtual as I would like it to be. Someone once said … More Memories

On Writing

A friend asked me “How do you find time to read a book, let alone write a book with the kind of world we are living in?” Some people would echo her sentiments, others would echo mine and a few would echo those of the written word. You are all right. So, I took my … More On Writing

On Writing

I have been held captive for years in my writing. There is always this burning desire to achieve literary merit. I want to write a storm, to unravel a mystery using twenty six letters of an alphabet that I was taught for sixteen years. Fifty thousand words, a cover image, immense praise and mega sales … More On Writing

On Writing

Writing turns you into somebody who’s always wrong. The illusion that you may get it right someday is the perversity that draws you on. A view shared on American Pastoral, a novel by Phillip Roth.