Where else could you suppose I would be? Yup, don’t shift uncomfortably in your shoes- you guessed it right. Just spill the words out. If you feel that it would hurt my feelings- it already did. I myself had been thinking about what the world would say if they found out that I was in a Words-Jail. Pretty embarrassing, I must say. But you get over the feeling once the clock starts ticking by and once you start having the feeling of nausea in this super high gravity of the planet on which this Words-Jail is situated.
Why do they torture the crappiest and completely peanut-headed amateur writers in this manner? Granted that people like me are the crappiest and completely peanut-headed amateur writers, why go to all that trouble. Isn’t it enough to say that ‘Hey man, I am sorry to say but your writing is worse that a pig’s goo. It is the most clichéd piece that I had ever read and you need to get your p’s and q’s straight in English language.’ It is a sure shot to kill them.
Do you know how it feels to be in a Words-Jail? It’s bad enough you can’t write well, but at least you need to have some space free enough to roam around, break down the fetters, be in a place where you are yourself, and don’t at all feel embarrassed by stripping down your clothes and being stark naked. Now, how would you actually feel, when you have quite unwittingly, stripped down all your clothes, splayed out all your feelings in a prose, and when the suitors (publishers) arrive, they don’t find you attractive enough to waste their time on. I try to cajole, I try to plead, I try to beg, but they won’t budge.
‘I am ugly’- that feeling destroys you, completely.
Oh, it has burned me. I have seen countless suitors rejecting me, too ugly to be even gazed upon. But of course they won’t say it directly. ‘Dear Vismay, thank you for the opportunity for letting XYZ publication read your work. But we aren’t looking for this sort of work presently. We may have liked it, but you know- we receive thousands of stories every year- Sorry.’
After all they don’t exactly want to hurt my feelings!! But they do so, they pierce my heart like a knife which gets stuck so hard and is wedged so deep inside my heart that it won’t leave till it is rendered bloodless.
I try to be meek, I sure do. I won’t feel bouts of eternal shame if you ask me to mop your ass with Clinic Plus. But I won’t do it because I don’t enjoy doing it.
And anyways, what does any writer, maybe stupid at that, wants?
Just to be read…
You know what, maybe I am obstinate. I am once again entering into one of those 500 words limit competition. It’s already 501 words- I dare them to even read this.
Alienman 