the banes and boons of being a magazine writer

Writers have a special responsibility to the world because they have he power to change it. They must be careful how they tell their tales, and to whom, for storytelling is an act whose effects are incalculable and endless.- Indra Sinha

Journalism?! What, you’re going to be a writer?!

About eight years ago, one of my good friends made an interesting comment about my chosen career path. I don’t actually remember if it was a question or an exclamation. Looking back, it was probably nothing more than a sincere declaration of disbelief—well-meaning but very misguided.

She said by the time that we graduate, people will be glued to their television sets, computers, cell phones, and play stations. Nobody will read anymore and that would render us print journalists irrelevant, even useless.

Of course that’s not what happened eight years later. Apparently, newspapers have managed to be relevant even in the age of the World Wide Web. Concept and specialty magazines have managed to reach a wider customer base, with their monthly coffers skyrocketing to whopping millions. And we, print journalists, have at least managed to keep our heads above the surface even without the rigid system that gives a false sense of security to corporate parasites. Hey, no offense meant.

Just like any job, however, mine too requires a lot of patience. Sure it also has its ups and downs, glamour and glitch, banes and boons. While it’s quite liberating not being confined in a four-corner workspace within an eight-hour work sched, I feel that my ability to write is greatly dictated by a thing called “artistic temperament”—a.k.a. mood swings that can either fuel or paralyze one’s train of thought. I know, I know, I am no artist and my procrastination issues are probably more of a self-inflicted disease than a bragging right, but yes, I do feel that erratic ebb and flow of inspiration from time to time. Say, I can stare at my laptop for two whole days without blinking and not get anything started. On a good day though I’d feel that rush, that steady stream of creative juice that makes me want to write at the speed of thought. This is where it gets crucial; any form of delay or interruption could mean going back to where I started. I am no artist, but I love this kind of rush, this sudden surge of emotion, this fleeting orgasmic exhilaration. Uhuh, kinda like being drugged and drunk…not that I know how that feels.