Tomic Riter

Tag: poetry

  • Milestone 2.0

    Finished writing 200 pages of rough manuscript for my first work of prose. Coming out some time later this year or early next year. For now, learning the craft a little bit more. When it’s about writing, there’s nothing more important than to write and write and write and write. Come what may, you need to sit at your desk and do the writing every day. After years, I have come to that point where I can say that I have developed that kind of writing stamina. Whatever that day, however long and tiring it gets at work, I make sure I write something before I am in bed. It can be anything. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I get it fucking done.

    Feels good to see 200 pages of solid writing that I started with on 28th September last year. Nothing special about that day though. What makes the day memorable is this moment right now in which I remember it. That day was nothing on its own then but today, when I think about that day, it has gained some significance because a journey got started then and it continued well and I didn’t quit midway like always. 200 pages, 58000+ words, 800 paragraphs later, the writing still continues. Page count, word count all that doesn’t matter right now. I can do 200 more pages in maybe half the time. Maybe. For now, a moment of rest.

    Let me know in comments what you’re currently working on. Have a good time.

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  • Building my empire.

    An empire isn’t built in a day. We build it brick by brick. It takes time. It can even take decades and that’s alright as long as we stay focused. I have always realised that persistence is the only key to meeting one’s goals. We need to persist. We need to constantly be at it, work for it. We cannot do it one day and then forget about it for a week or a month. I have not been a very persistent man until now. Now is when things have begun to change for me. I am much more clear headed than before. I am building my empire brick by brick each day and in all quietness. It’s the easiest and the hardest thing to persist. Most of them get bored even before they are halfway. That’s not persistence. Persistence is to keep putting bricks until the very last day. It’s easy only if one is focused. Without focus, without a clear picture of what one wants, one cannot persist. I do not have a clear picture yet, but I do have a clearer one. It will keep me going.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Phonecall.

    ‘Where did you disappear last night?’ she called at 11 this morning and asked.

    ‘I just went out. It’s nothing’ I said.

    ‘Are you okay? I feel worried about you’ she asked.

    ‘Yeah I’m good. I’m good. Good. Hey listen, I’ll call you back in an hour. Bye,’ I said.

    ‘Sure. Bye,’ she said and cut the call.

    I threw the phone hard at the opposite wall. It didn’t broke into pieces. Only the screen flickered fast and then all went blank. I just realised what I had done. I broke my phone.

    ‘I broke my phone’ I thought again and again. I wasn’t able to think about anything else for few minutes. I kept sitting in that corner. I kept staring at my phone. I didn’t know what to do. I felt paralysed. ‘Should I check if it’s working? Should I leave it? Should I get rid of it altogether? Should I get it repaired? It’s surely broken. What if it’s not? Should I just check it once? Should I? What should I do?’ More questions arose in my head. I got up and walked to my phone. Just as I picked it up with my right hand, it exploded.

    ‘Shit shit shit shit shit! Fuck! Shit shit shit shit!’ I screamed and fell back on the floor. The smell of smoke filled my nose. I felt nauseated. I looked at my right hand. A third of my index finger was gone. Half of my middle finger was gone. The rest of my hand was in blood. ‘Shit shit shit shit shit’ I was screaming very loud. I crawled back to the corner farthest from the point of explosion. It hurt really bad. It was the first time I had lost a part of my body. I was screaming and I was in tears and I wasn’t able to think. It was as if I had just lost my one hand. I really had. With two less fingers, what was a hand anyways. I kept sitting there for a couple of minutes. As I was about to get up, the phone rang again.

    ‘What the hell,’ I thought. I pissed right there. My eyes searched for the source of ringing and found it to be just the chip of the phone. The ringing came from there.

    With fear, I crawled to where the chip was. What more have I got to lose, I thought. I reached the chip. It was still ringing. No cover. Only a couple of buttons on the top were strangely intact. I pressed one of the buttons.

    ‘Hey are you alright? You didn’t call me back. I feel so worried really,’ said the voice. It was her again.

    ‘Bitch just shut up! Shuutttt Uppppp!!!’ I screamed into the ears of the chip and threw a hard punch at it with my left hand. The chip exploded in my face.

    The ringing stopped.

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  • Rejections.

    I am not meant to be caged. I learnt that shit about myself in childhood itself. I have always hated rules when it comes to expressing oneself creatively. That is why I hate the rejections that come in my way because I apparently didn’t follow some stupid writing structure when creating a short story. The reason I didn’t follow the structure is very simple and it is that I do not fucking care about the stupid structure. When I write, I try to make sure that whatever I accomplish writing is interesting enough to read. That is to say that it is clear to read and it isn’t boring. That’s it. I do not care about some structure that some online academic courses taught by unknown unheard of college professors cum novelists want you to follow while writing. To the academicians, I say ‘Suck my dick!’

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • The path never taken before.

    So far, whatever job I’ve had and whatever job I’m having right now, I have been fairly good at it. That is not to boast about myself. I am just stating what is. And that’s precisely the problem. I am stuck doing something that I can do well and that which I do not want to do at all, even for a minute. It’s time I stand up for myself and invest at least 50% of the time I spend at my job in doing what I really love doing. And what I love doing is writing. I can write all day and night. I have done it. I have never run out of lines to write, and I’ve been doing serious writing since last five years. I’ve never had what people call ‘creative block.’ I just never had it. I could sit in a closed, locked room and write pages. I have done it so many times and I do it often.

    But why am I writing all this. Why am I sharing all this. As always, I’m just letting a few things out. I am walking a new path, one that puts me in a vulnerable situation. Still, I’ve got one foot on the old path and the other on this new path. I cannot walk like that for long, I know. For now, I will do whatever I can to not stray totally from this new path. Just trying to do my bit everyday. It is hard because it is to be done all alone. If by day’s end, I have written at least a couple of really good paragraphs if not a couple of pages, I feel alright.

    About today, it was a quiet day. It’s never all quiet though. Not much rain. Summer is back or so it seems.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Modern problems.

    Dabbling between Instagram, Twitter, and here. It’s hard to keep up with all the spaces. Life was so good before social media, or one can say life was so good when I wasn’t on social media. I used to put more time into myself and not just pointlessly scrolling up and down like a robot. Back then, I used to read more. Nowadays, I am writing more but not as much as I used to read. Is there a relation between the two? Not an obvious one. The gist of the matter is that a lot of time goes into getting distracted by trivial shit on the social media. I am still saved because I am here for the sole purpose of connecting with other writers and readers and artists and sharing with them what I wish to share, and getting to learn whatever I can from them. But most of the time, the sharing and the exchange doesn’t happen at all. There’s hardly any word of exchange either through comments or emails or in whatever way suitable and possible. There’s hardly any learning, well, often there isn’t for me. I really wish the social media didn’t have to grow into this. Just saying. Social media isn’t a bad place. Social media is nothing without us, the people. As always, it all comes down to us what we make of it.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Not again!

    A quick one from my mobile. It’s a sunny morning. The crows are crowing again. People coming and leaving. A man of patience is hard to find. A man who embraces life, who knows what life is and is not, will naturally become patient with time. Sometimes one doesn’t realise when solitude turns to isolation. I have a life outside of work. But do I? I am having this feeling that I am headed the wrong way. It’s a feeling that has lasted for quite some time now. It’s a feeling. Just a feeling. A feeling nonetheless. A bitch of a feeling. This day feels nothing like a night. Why would it. A day is a day and a night is a night. Nights bring no greater relief and yet I wait for the night as I walk bloody fisted through my damned days knowing I can’t do a damn thing about it.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Sometimes the sun sets at night.

    Writing as much as I can. In journal. In here. In a few other places too. I haven’t done poetry in quite some time. I do not feel the need to write poems anymore. It’s as simple as that. I love prose. I love it very much. Prose lets me explore so much. It’s a wonderful feeling to write paragraphs and paragraphs of nonsense. Luckily, my speciality is in writing nonsense. And my lines are ruthless. My pages banished from society. My hands cut and bruised. My knees dislocated. Red spit of blood in my mouth. In my lines, there can be no win for me. In fact, even outside my lines, there’s not much of a win for me. I am a fighter, of course. I can fight anything. But I am not a winner. There’s no win for me here or anywhere.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • On writing journal.

    Started writing journal some time in last September. Almost a year has passed since then. There is so much in the journal now. So much. Most of it won’t make sense to anyone who reads. So much is in there, and none of it would make any sense to anyone. Think about it. So many pages. So many words. So many paragraphs all written by one man in innumerable moods, innumerable positions, innumerable seasons. Looking at it gives me a strange sense of happiness. Surely I cannot go through reading it all again myself unless exclusively for the purpose of editing it someday. I never read my own stuff unless it is to edit. My lines are for the world to soak in. I write and then I move on and write some more.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • With a tongue on fire.

    People usually have morning rituals or evening rituals or some sort of rituals in their lives. I do not have morning rituals or evening rituals. I do not even have mornings or evenings. I go to work, I work, I come back from work. That’s how I measure my time.

    It’s a holiday. Again, I cannot feel the excitement of it. What am I? A fucking stone?

    Soon, my body should begin to show symptoms of withdrawal. That’s natural to happen to an addict.

    Just another rainy day in my life. Splashes of rain on my window. Curtains moving in the air. Sparrows resting on window rails. Times have changed, and with that, I have changed too. And what is change but to come to realise a lot more than you already realise. I changed to grow my own experiences of life. I cannot always be the same man, nor would I ever want to be the same man, nor would I ever want to change. That is to say that I want neither. I am just flowing with this life.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS