Writing and rewriting
 What would be your reaction when you get a chance to revise something
you have done decades ago? Perhaps something you have written in
twenties and you get a chance to edit it now in eighties. What will you
do?
Now, don’t ask me that question. I cannot answer. I’m not that old.
Fortunately I could pose that question to some people. One poet, now in
forties, commented about the poetry he had written in early twenties.
 “My first impression is I cannot write that kind of poetry now. So
naturally I cannot edit it now. I cannot write any better, even if I’m
to edit. That will be more unfair, I think.” Let’s mark this as case
one.
Then my encounter is a lyric writer.
“I’m so ashamed to hear the song I have penned. Whenever my friends
sing, I keep on requesting them not to sing the song. It sounds quite
immature. If I were now, I would never pen such horrible lyrics.” That’s
case two.
I met a painter next, case three. “Obviously I cannot make any
changes. It should be as it is.”
What does all this say? The creation, on the surface, doesn’t age,
but the creator does. All three cases have grown old and they have
common to say: they wouldn’t do the same creation after a lapse of
years.
Case one is a classic example that time changes your creativity.
True, ageing means maturity. But maturity doesn’t always work well with
creativity. Sometimes immaturity does fine with masterpieces. That’s why
people cannot produce many more perfect works as they age. What you have
written in early twenties cannot always be just sentimental. You start
to see the world, and it can remain the most wonderful work you have
written.
Case two seems quite opposite case one. I’m sorry to tell you this,
but there are times when maturity gives strength to what you write.
That’s why you feel awful about something you have written years, or
decades, ago.
Case three – I have nothing much to say.
You write because you have to. That happens when you become a
professional writer. You are a professional writer even when you write
as a hobby, or even when you have something to write. Sometimes you
experience the writer’s block and out of that frustration you finish off
the writing. That bit gives out a wonderful finish, though not all the
time. Sometimes the maximum won’t come out. You have to stop writing and
get back another time.
What can rekindle your writing? It can be looking at the deep silent
sea. Else, it can be walking along a noisy city with the busy people. If
not, having to sleep with a leopard’s droppings a few feet away? I bet
rewriting won’t come then. It’s intuition, in another sense, that will
come up at such a moment. But you will reap the fruits later in life.
Such experiences add colour to your life. How come? Don’t ask me, I
don’t know.
It just happens. It just nudges you awake for something that was
resting deep inside you.
It doesn’t pop out in the first go. Your first draft is raw, and
needs rewriting a draft or two more. It’s like eating a well-barbecued
flesh (hope vegetarians won’t get offended). Even so over-barbecuing
kills the savor – I liken this to overly rewriting.
It’s raining so heavy when I almost finished writing this. The young
couple in the seat next to me laughs out aloud with each other. They
don’t seem to notice, or just don’t care, my presence. Neither do they
notice the raindrops splashing against them on the shutter sill.
I let the conversation drift over my head.
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