- From "Purple" by Kinjal Sheth
I have no doubt that some artists really do create spontaneously. That is not me. And that is not most writers I know.
I didn’t come to writing school to pursue a topic, but to pursue writing, as a craft. From one sentence, I wanted to build the next. I came here to dress myself up in literature. If words were my bones, their cadence my muscle, my body’s movement would be voice, pure voice (okay, my voice).
The imposter syndrome, the fear of failure, the fear of rejection stopped me before I even started. Escaping was easier, and perhaps it’s necessary for a while. Sooner or later, though, every writer must decide—if not now, when will I write?
so that I may take it in, / taste our communion / and learn what she means when she says / Mija, we are magic.
People wanted to be debased. They wanted to debase others, their scent lingering as they walked by.
Wandering appeals to me enormously. I find it to be regenerative and creatively enriching. Like everything, however, it has its downsides. Belonging somewhere takes time. Forming a community takes time. Wandering can make you an outsider to certain kinds of knowledge—which can be tricky for writing. A lot of my work tends to focus on displaced people, or passers-through, people trying to make sense of settings to which they are fundamentally outsiders, and I suspect this is tied to my own experience of the world.