Step into my world of journal entries. Or better, step outside the box if you will. I had warned you that this blog would contain some uncomfortable truths – as well as insights and opinions that you might dislike me for.

But better a reaction than no reaction at all, right? After all, this is what makes good writing, and stories that actually stick.

Today’s entry (my first entry – eeep!) is about insanity.

Some of us wear insanity like pearls to adorn our creativity. Some of us run away from it, as though it’s a black dog chasing us in the middle of the street.

Either way, most creatives have it  in some capacity. And I believe that insanity actually makes us more intelligent, innovative, and brave. In fact, all my favourite stories (including the ones written by myself) are about two sentences away from falling off the edge. Perhaps insanity is our greatest weapon.

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.