Journal

OUTSIDE THE LINES

A storyteller’s imagination is grown on a diet of imperfections and all the bits “outside the lines”. Essentially, all the details that people take for granted.‌

The irony is, life is made up of tiny little details – and the most impactful stories weave these unconventional details together to create a bigger and more vivid picture.

Read all about the “small stuff” (which is actually the “big stuff”) in Neely’s journal entries.

Likely to contain uncomfortable truths, candid opinions, and a strong measure of literary whimsy.

In Delhi, it Pours.

For as long as I can remember, people have referred to me as a “wordsmith”.

I hate the term “wordsmith”. I know people say it with good intention, but it doesn’t – in the slightest – describe the role of a writer and storyteller. There is far more to our work than cobbling a few words together, and dressing them up in fancy adjectives that are akin to lace-up shoes.

I believe that a writer is a master of emotions.

You need to have a good grasp of emotions (more so than words) if you want to be an excellent writer. I know many people who are well-educated and have read many books; but they often tell me that they have trouble with giving their writing that “emotional hook”. Like Sylvia Plath does in The Bell Jar, or like Stephen King does when he’s describing the psychotic downfall of Johnny in The Shining. This is usually because these people are focusing on the wrong areas (words, rather than emotions).

Writing and storytelling is actually a consequence of many things. A consequence of feeling love, of experiencing heartbreak, of surviving pain, and generally speaking, of living life.

As a writer, I write for only thirty percent of my daily existence. I don’t know if this just makes me a lazy bum; but I do find that my best stories are a result of the things that I’m feeling; as well as the personal experiences that I’m leaning on.

As such, my debut book “In Delhi, it Pours” is a consequence of my life, up until the age of thirty-three.

Journal

OUTSIDE THE LINES

A storyteller’s imagination is grown on a diet of imperfections and all the bits “outside the lines”. Essentially, all the details that people take for granted.‌

The irony is, life is made up of tiny little details – and the most impactful stories weave these unconventional details together to create a bigger and more vivid picture.

Read all about the “small stuff” (which is actually the “big stuff”) in Neely’s journal entries.

Likely to contain uncomfortable truths, candid opinions, and a strong measure of literary whimsy.

In Delhi, it Pours.

For as long as I can remember, people have referred to me as a “wordsmith”.

I hate the term “wordsmith”. I know people say it with good intention, but it doesn’t – in the slightest – describe the role of a writer and storyteller. There is far more to our work than cobbling a few words together, and dressing them up in fancy adjectives that are akin to lace-up shoes.

I believe that a writer is a master of emotions.

You need to have a good grasp of emotions (more so than words) if you want to be an excellent writer. I know many people who are well-educated and have read many books; but they often tell me that they have trouble with giving their writing that “emotional hook”. Like Sylvia Plath does in The Bell Jar, or like Stephen King does when he’s describing the psychotic downfall of Johnny in The Shining. This is usually because these people are focusing on the wrong areas (words, rather than emotions).

Writing and storytelling is actually a consequence of many things. A consequence of feeling love, of experiencing heartbreak, of surviving pain, and generally speaking, of living life.

As a writer, I write for only thirty percent of my daily existence. I don’t know if this just makes me a lazy bum; but I do find that my best stories are a result of the things that I’m feeling; as well as the personal experiences that I’m leaning on.

As such, my debut book “In Delhi, it Pours” is a consequence of my life, up until the age of thirty-three.