Pranav Mulpur
Here I intermittently document my writing journey. And other matters.
Here I intermittently document my writing journey. And other matters.
Let me write something that makes one person shiver. One person get goosebumps. One person weep. One person feel the way Sue felt when reading Emily.
Like the hares we see running from the dogs in our gardens and burrowing amongst the bushes, your mind fidgets, buffeted by winds of anxiety and fear. Random and uncontrollable movements towards temporal pleasure and away from pain. A prey-instinct.
I think the craft of writing hones the skill of calling up inspiration on command.
I think the unique place art occupies, and thus the primary moral obligation artists inherit, is an orientation toward beauty.
From the temporal world springs inspiration, because what is art if not showing to human beings something true they recognize inside something beautiful they do not?
Curiosity is inquiring about what one sees in front of oneself. Wonder is about meditating on what lies beyond. The seen and the unseen.
My sense of humor and my love of the language come from books my father received from books his father received from monarchists and missionaries, conquering with sword and pen.
Eventually, a column of fire erupted, as if Agni himself had awoken from deep beneath the earth.
Flow was about information. Each sentence ought to connect familiar information with new information. Very often, this will mean eliminating passive voice. But sometimes good flow will require passive voice.
