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Welcome 2021

A shimmer of light is crawling in, giving us hope to break free from the darkness that has engulfed us in different ways, since the start of the pandemic. This was a year when illness, unexpected death and hate raised their ugly heads, shocking me beyond belief. The year 2020 is finally reaching its end. 2021 is gently tiptoeing into our lives, carrying the promise for better things. I have been struggling for the best words to describe this hugely challenging year. I recently learned about a carinaria shell through Anthony Doerr’s book, All the Light we cannot see. A carinaria shell is simultaneously light and heavy, hard, and soft, smooth, and rough. This is exactly how this year has made me feel. I feel like I have turned into a carinaria shell: heavy with pandemic fatigue and yet, wearing a light smile, thinking about the possibility of the bringing in newness, I feel rough around the edges and still soft enough to soak in the goodness that brightens ...

The magic of writing groups

Writing is a solitary activity. I have seen, read and heard this line many times over and over. I have also met writers who need total silence and shut themselves away from devices and people and keep themselves open only to their thoughts and ideas. I agree that if you have quiet time and no distractions, you can churn out good content and meet burning deadlines. In today’s piece, I am going to walk you through quite the opposite of this. Writing groups. For the past five years, I have been actively participating in writing groups. When I first started out, I had no idea how helpful and inspiring it would be to write with a group of writers. Creative writing groups in public libraries and other avenues in the writing community in Charlotte have given me a taste of how it works. Though awkward and shy initially, I slowly realized that it was a community with a purpose. The purpose was to get your thoughts out on a paper or on a device. Prompts and the ways in which writers in the ...

New blessings

Trees are beginning to feel a little lighter. Leaves are changing their costumes, putting their make-up on, getting dressed to leave their old lives, making place for the new to take shape. I try to add a spring in my step, crunching the dried leaves resting on the sidewalk. Patches of orange and green leaves, specks of yellow on a few others, deep reds peeping from the fresh greens are a welcoming sight for me. I am amazed at the way in which fall walks in year after year, accompanied by a quiet grace, making for gentle celebrations. There is a common thought that crosses my mind at the same time every year. Have I changed? What parts of me have I let go, fall away like the dried leaves that I just stomped upon? Where are my branches leading me? How much longer can I hold on to the green leaves? Am I prettier when I change color? This year is astonishingly different. The virus has changed nearly everything. It has taken away so much from us, including loved ones, jobs...

Writersmind.Surabhi

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