I Write Fiction… So Sue Me
By Nayna Chakrabarty
The creativity inside me struggled to emerge but somehow I managed to keep it
under wraps for fear of being ridiculed. First, it vented in the form of
dramatics, then painting, and creating collages. Finally, the pressure was too
much and it exploded in form of writing.
In the beginning, I found it hard to fill in forms for questionnaires and
surveys, and I waited, doodling with my pen, wondering what I should write in
the blank provided next to the word "profession." This hesitation was because my
work had not been showcased in magazines that were commonly read. It was usually
on websites and in the newsletters of fairly small publishing houses.
After a year of this awkwardness, I finally came to terms with my self-esteem
and, with the encouragement of friends and family, I realized I was in the right
profession.
One evening, I was attending an old friend's engagement party. I was mingling
with the guests when someone asked me, "So, what do you do?"
"I'm a writer," I replied, my eyes gleaming with pride and a sense of
accomplishment.
"Oh really!" said the man. "Time Magazine? The Art World...
Newsweek?"
"No, I write
fiction."
"Hmm…"
The conversation came to a screeching halt and the man seemed to have evaporated
like the bubbles from a glass of cola not consumed in time. The humiliation was
too much to handle and I left the gathering and loitered in the foyer, handing
the valet my car keys. My stilettos clanked on the granite floor as I paced
angrily, thinking that I should have given the man a piece of my mind, but my
sensitive side let go of the opportunity.
"Now what's the point feeling sorry," I thought. "I let the moment pass."
"Excuse me," said a
friendly voice. "Aren't you Annette's friend, Nina?"
I nodded.
"Why are you leaving so early? Oh, don't tell me. You have a busy day tomorrow…
Meetings, presentations; I understand. I'm Jeremy, Annette's cousin."
I forced a smile. I
really didn't want to talk about my day tomorrow because then I would have to
tell him what I did for a living.
"So what do you
do?" he asked.
"Too late," I
thought.
"I don't do
anything. I'm unemployed and I have no meetings or presentations. As a matter of
fact I have nothing to do tomorrow."
The valet was just in time with my car and I drove away, watching Jeremy's
expression in the rear mirror. The surprised look on his face made me realize
that I was rude to him and made him an easy target of my frustrations. But I
didn't care. He asked for it.
The next day, I decided that the time had come to remodel the living room. It
was too cluttered with the wrong type of upholstered furniture. One thing led to
another and I ended up painting and renovating the rest of the flat with the
exception of my bedroom. I needed a clean place to sleep at night. My laptop
stared at me every time I passed the bedroom to go to the storeroom. But I
pretended that I didn't see it.
In two weeks, my apartment had a fresh, contemporary look. A place where one
could lounge for hours undisturbed. This serene relaxation came to a standstill
after two days. I didn't know what to do next. I decided to rearrange my
wardrobe and passed my laptop on the way. It had a thin film of dust coating its
silver body. I had to clean it, at least to maintain the equipment.
The soft cloth smoothly captured all the dust and also started clearing the
cobwebs that blocked my thoughts. I remembered the day I had bought the laptop,
feeling lucky that in spite of the pouring rain, I made it and got the best
deal. It felt so good that I finally owned one and for what? To be a writer. And
not because a snooty man thinks that I am not good enough. It was time that I
wrote what I felt and got it circulated to as many websites and newsgroups as I
could. I believe that fiction writing is all about thrilling the inquisitive
mind. With that, my fingers squeezed the soft keyboard and here it is as you
read it.
A professional in the field of public relations, Nayna Chakrabarty lives in
Mumbai (Bombay) India. Travel, curiosity about the paranormal, fascination with
adventure, sports, legends, and the mystical have influenced her writing.
As a versatile writer, many of her pieces have been published in fiction
publications like 57 Story Lane, The Paranormal Investigator, and Miss
Saphira's Strange and Mysterious Tales. The nonfiction ones are in
Toowrite.com, SP News, My Life Webzine, Writing Village, The Travel Rag, The
Applecart Magazine, Mosaic Minds, and The Flow Magazine. She was selected as one
of the finalists in the 2004 short story competition for The Preservation
Foundation, Inc.
