Everything about bloggers for those who don't know

What is a blog?

A blog is usually a log. A weblog. Of different things. It can be anything, really. Some bloggers choose to write blogs about their own life. I, am not one of them. I did try though. But it really didn't work out.
Blog writers, or bloggers, as they are popularly referred to, may choose to write on a variety of topics. Some bloggers write journals or post life updates with the internet, sharing their daily lives, or some interesting learning every single day.
Some bloggers write in a specific niche. It's more about that specific category. (Tip: It's usually their forte). 
These bloggers can be writing about anything from DIY posts to natural home remedies, make-up or beauty, fashion, tech reviews, gadgets, spirituality and life philosophies. You name it.

Do blog writers always write journals or accounts of their lives?

When I tried writing a typical blog post, it was dull. And lifeless. The charm and aura of fiction were missing. The mystery that revolves around my fiction tab, is enticing. There are carefully written characters and their character graphs. These individuals are definitely derived from what we have seen or read. One needs to make it interesting enough to seem to be real. A character that you write about needs some flesh. A writer sits at a coffee shop, (well, usually), eavesdropping many conversations. So, no bloggers do not always write an account of what happened to them. Blogging is similar to writing. Blogging is writing in digital form. As a writer, you could be writing a general article or fiction or a column in a magazine.


How do authors write about the things they do?


Fiction writers are blessed with an imagination. A very vivid imagination. They are often creepy people who could be telling you stories all the time. Most of them, that never happened. And some that maybe a compilation of many real stories. 

It would be hilarious, the extent to which we go. It's a trance that happens. A name we heard, a friend's name we like, a stranger's phone call. A dream we had. It could be anything, really. Or all of it. 

A writer usually finds a home with things they know from their friends or through travel. Places they have visited or things they have eaten. It is highly likely that a man who visited the Ifle Tower with his mother, then writes about a young man, like himself, travelling and meeting this gorgeous woman there. Can we even blame him, though? It's Paris, after all. Everyone wants to read a romantic story.


My journey into romantic fiction

While celebrated trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey, claims to be erotic literature, with three books, with elaborate descriptions on the two protagonists, like most women, I saw the love story instead. Which is precisely why, I never saw the movie with the same name, Fifty Shades of Grey. 

I remember, the lovely lady, I had met on a train who had a mother with Parkinson's disease. The poor thing kept explaining how serious it is, and how they have tried everything, to the most ignorant lady on the face of the earth, who kept saying how everyone's mother-in-law behaves like that. The worst you can ever do to a human is trivialize their grievous pain to the most common occurrence in every household. Sigh. It was a waste of time, trying to explain her really. I couldn't help but explode that I understand how tough it is to take care. 

Nobody understands the pain of the caregiver. I had been sitting really quiet for a really long time witnessing the whole drama. But, my tolerance level had really given up on the face of the utter ignorance and the sheer determination of this young woman, beside her mother, constantly moving her hands, and legs and asking for things. What was really phenomenal about this young woman was that, she was very beautiful. I mean, she took care of herself and of her mother too. She had done a nice face and had diligently applied lipstick and blush on her mother's face too. I have been through this and seen my mother been through it too. It is next to impossible to breathe when you have someone with a special need next to you. But this young lady, lived her life. Or, tried to. She told her mother to be a good kid and sit and went with a childlike amusement after the amboda lady. My heart literally thumped out and was in my hand. 

I wasn't prepared for this. My insides were churning faster than ever with a nervous discomfort. I cared for these two already. And I was worried. She swiftly came back absolutely nonchalant of my worries. I was still a stranger to her. And then began this highest level of ignorance shamelessly taunting and accusing her with all the innocence. And that was the irony. The typical working Marathi lady by the window seat in the Mumbai local train genuinely thought that the mother in front of us, (who looked like her sister, in a lovely white lace and red and orange print pattern kurta and matching leggings), was indeed, as good as any old mother-in-law forgetting things and shaking her hand as she holds the tea cup. I did want to do my, "Wait, what?!!!" But, surprisingly, I held my calm as I saw this a second ago fascinated by the amboda  girl, carefully explain to her what Parkinson's disease is. She went into deep details on the brain functioning and how an operation could possibly kill her mother and how they have taken every opinion under the sun. 
Hence, at the brim, this outburst.

"I understand how difficult it is to take care. INobody understands the pain of the caregiver". 




I had interrupted this long pointless conversation like a blow. A blow, that went unnoticed, obviously. She heard me. For sure. But her brain couldn't process it.
It was an overwhelming human moment. She continued the sentence she was speaking and her eyes were blurry now as she looked at me. She did a double take. Maybe, just to be sure what she heard.
Now she was looking at me. Directly into my eyes. So touched by the acknowledgement that I thought she will burst into tears any moment.
"Thank you".
"Oh, it's ....", I went on.
We then talked, giving her some escape from the lady in a blue saree with the jasmine stuck to her hair next to her office bag, still looking for her opportunity to repeat how it is the same as her mother-in-law's hand shaking while holding the cup of tea.
The mother was obviously smiling at me, and tugging at her daughter, and smiling again. At everyone. A cute child, she was.
Like a human, we kept smiling at her. And amidst all of this, the lady managed to tell me how she lived Fifty Shades of Grey and how I should never watch the movie, though.
"The book is lovely. But don't watch the movie. It's all porn", she hissed, as she had to hurry to get down at Dadar.
Shantaram, a 2003 novel written by Gregory_David_Roberts, is happily set in Mumbai, also mentioning the Saurabh hotel in Colaba. The Guardian lists ten other books set in the charm of Bombay. Travel is the intoxication of many writers. Unfortunately, one never travels enough. I haven't. I tend to stick to the places I know somehow so that I can sew a realistic appeal to the story that I'm weaving for you.

Unless, of course, they are my fantasy of a different world, altogether. 
.....IMAGINATION GALORE ...... Romance in the wilderness) chapter 2 (August 17, 2012)
.....IMAGINATION GALORE ...... Romance in the wilderness) (February 19, 2011)
I have, however, set my Magic story in Delhi, without ever having been in Delhi.
THE MAGIC: A love story Chapter 1 (August 18, 2012)
The Magic- A love story Chapter 2 (March 15, 2014)

Nobody really writes about Odia characters, ones that can be cool, too. I've grown up watching Ekta Kapoor, with Gujarati or Punjabi background households. Lately, Rajasthani households have also caught popular attention. You could hear even Marathi, South Indian, Bengali, and every other cultural backdrop. But never an Odia one. Hence, I did dare to give Bhubaneswar a little credit. Bhubaneswar to NarimanPoint sounded as crazy a catchphrase to me as small town to Las Vegas. Or maybe like I say Mumbai is the NewYork of India and probably this posh area is Manhattan or LA.
My lack of adequate travel paralyses me to think of an equivalent in the culture where a city has a life, a texture, a character, and speaks for itself.

I also happen to write absolutely non-romantic fiction
Ayesha and the Incredible I want to meet you Part 2 (October 24, 2014).
Ayesha and the incredible I want to meet you! (September 5, 2014)
and some satirical articles, like; Turning 25: The odds of being a woman (November 5, 2014)
Just a photograph and... (January 12, 2015)
Life before & after a Note 3 (January 8, 2015)


I do translations that have been a favourite of many, cuz my interpretation of things is at a whole new level. Can you tell? Haha.
Bavra Mann Dekhne Chala Ek Sapna lyrics translation (March 22, 2011)
Jiya jiya re | Lyrics Translation & meaning (October 27, 2012)
WHY KOLAVERI DI IS NOT A FAD...Why this Kolaveri Kolaveri kolaveri..........D (February 20, 2012)
SPECIAL ANALYSIS, MEANING, TRANSLATION, INTERPRETATION OF KOLAVERI DI SONG WITH LYRICS(February 20, 2012)



My Writing journey

I used to write in the third person earlier but ever since I started reading chick lit like, Can you keep a secret?, I was blown by the personal touch it brought. Most female writers write about a female character, as it is just convenient and easy to get in the head of the protagonist. However, some have really pulled off writing as the man, and slaying it too. Even in Fifty Shades of Grey, the third book essentially speaks about the entire story from the perspective of the man, now. They fell in love. In deep, disastrous love. He proposed to her and they got married. They had kids. And it was beautiful. But the majority who haven't read the books might dismiss it as mere erotic literature. A few paragraphs in isolation from the bigger context of things can tarnish the larger and deeper soul of a book.
Active voice and present tense have been my choice, lately. What's yours?
Imagining (with my very vivid imagination), that something is happening right now, in the now is very fascinating.


The Blogger beyond the blog: How is a Blogger different from a writer?

It is easy to set up a blog. You can punch in an email address. Give a password. And, you're done. What takes courage and consistent effort, is to really find that rhythm and that voice within to constantly write. 
Bloggers cannot just write. In addition to that, they have to add images to make it meaningful. The web is a different place. You want to add aesthetics. A feel-good factor, so that your reader scrolls down chunks of words piled on their phone screens or tablets. Most readers wouldn't prefer to read on a desktop computer. When the attention span is really low and everyone is in a hurry, it takes a lot than just your writing. To be able to feature in Google rankings, you have to constantly update all webmasters. Not just Google. 
Bloggers got to deal with the internet. They don't have separate editors if they're on their own. But, they've to take care of the entire publishing. This includes making every bit shareable and hustling hard for backlinks. Working on SEO. Working on the template, the aesthetics, readability, positioning, designing, copyright and legal issues.
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