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I tapped on the metal surface of my laptop with my nails.

“R-O-S-E, D-M-I-T-R-I-Y, J-A-S-O-N,” I mumbled to myself, “How do I entangle the three in a plot?"

I shook my head and ran my fingers through my straight black hair.

Taking off my spectacles, I dropped them on the table. I rubbed my hands for warmth and touched them to my eyes, a technique my yoga teacher had taught to relieve stress.

My head was throbbing.

After sometime I found myself biting my nails.

Damn! I was being too stressed.

Finally I got up from my chair.

Sitting and staring at the laptop would do me no good.

I went to the kitchen, grabbed the ingredients and came back to my desk with a cup of  black coffee.

I looked at the ending again. The story was being overdramatic, like the ones you see in movies.

I remembered the comments and the supports on my previous novella, “WITH LOVE’. That had motivated me to write the second part.

But the thing that I was afraid to admit to myself, was that I was truly stuck. I never dreamed that the thing called writer’s block, something that had always existed as a myth for me, had finally occurred to me.

I didn’t just know how to forward the plot, how to go on. I seriously needed some inspiration.

Suddenly out of the blue, a thought occurred to me.  Who am I writing for? What am I writing for? Wattpad is just an online platform. I’m not publishing the books. How would I get recognition? And if I don’t get recognition, why do I still keep writing?

Will this affect my career? Will this affect my goal? Why do I spend so much time writing? I may not get any recognition for my writing, ever.

A thousand questions cropped up in my mind. They were completely unanswerable.

The more I thought, the more miserable I felt. The burden of the thoughts were too much.

Soon I was crying. The tears fell on my phone which vibrated just at that moment.

I took that up and looked at the tear-stained reflection of myself on the glass. How had I come to this stage? There was no going back now. Writing has become a kind of addiction, a drug. A drug which might eventually destroy me, distracting me from the world of reality.

Nevertheless I swiped open my smartphone to see who was messaging me at that hour around 11.pm.

One WhatsApp notification from T.

Now this ‘T’ is an interesting person. She is my senior. I met her by chance at some Halloween event. We talked and got to know each other as the scary stories had ended the night. I had heard her story and realized that she is an amazing writer. We used to talk sometimes, but only in chats.

But being a senior, she was always keeping the distance. A distance I so longed to bridge. I had always wanted all age differences to crumble.

So one message from her meant the world to me. However sad I might be, I could never ever ignore her message.

I opened it. The message didn’t make any sense to me.

I scrolled up, my mind blank as usual. It took a few minutes for me to register the previous message I sent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1/19, 10:06 PM] S: Okay bye and good night. By the way... You must be studying and see me....writing stories on my laptop. 😬😠😵😎🙄 Like I am... Anyway... Good night.

Well that was my comment and my senior had replied to me. I scrolled down excitedly to see the reply...

[1/19, 11:07 PM] T: Haha, That's not called wasting time.

Just the kind of reply I has expected. In spite of myself, a brief flicker of a smile appeared on my face.

[1/19, 11:08 PM] S: Well I guess that's not.... You are just so funny.

[1/19, 11:09 PM] T: 😅 People should write! I strongly feel that.

I was suddenly reminded of the time I couldn't write a word because of my exams. It was such a depressing time. I had to focus on my career.

And I suddenly felt the urge to share it with her.

[1/19, 11:10 PM] S: Me too. I felt so suffocated when I couldn't write for two years while preparing for my entrance. It's my life, Di.....

[1/19, 11:11 PM] T: Yes.
[1/19, 11:11 PM] T: Keep on writing.
[1/19, 11:11 PM] T: And reading.

This comment made me smile. I hadn't realised when my tears had dried away. I was feeling so happy chatting with her. It was an ecstasy, a rush of warmth, a feeling of being cared for.

Maybe we couldn't see each other at the moment, but the love, the feeling of that bonding made me all fuzzy.

[1/19, 11:12 PM] S: Reading is another vital thing. True.

[1/19, 11:14 PM] T: Keep it up.

[1/19, 11:14 PM] S: Thanks for your support and encouragement.

I thought for sometime and then felt like bragging a bit...

[1/19, 11:15 PM] S: You know I got International rank 11 in International English Olympiad organized by the SOF
[1/19, 11:15 PM] S: It was the happiest moment of my life.

[1/19, 11:15 PM] T: 😍😍
[1/19, 11:16 PM] T: Whew! Material. 👌🏻👌🏻

[1/19, 11:16 PM] S: Ha ha..... I can proudly say I have earned 5000 rupees for myself.... 😁😂

I needed to make my own jokes as usual! So I said...

[1/19, 11:17 PM] S: I say that whenever I get scoldings from Mom.

[1/19, 11:17 PM] T: 😍😍 Wow.

I looked at the time. 11.17. Damn! I wasted so much of her time. She would be so pissed off.

[1/19, 11:18 PM] S: Okay Di..... I always seem to say bye but actually never go away. Good night for sure this time. 😊☺️

[1/19, 11:19 PM] T: Bye bye!!

That was just as sweet as she actually is. I was feeling better as I looked at the screen and reviewed our conversation. It seemed to motivate me somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally I set aside my phone and stole a glance out of the window. A chilly winter night. The sound of rough DJ music flooded from somewhere.

Ugh!

I picked up my headphones and set it to 'Daydreams' by Ruelle. I opened the window as a draft of air hit me. It was chilling, and yet surprisingly my thoughts were clearer.

I was seeing a picture before my eyes, a girl in a wedding dress, one man, a gun, a deep gorge and seeds of ideas were forming in my mind.

Soon the song changed to 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri. And as the music flooded, my phone vibrated again.

Displeased at the interruption, I picked up the thing to see a new comment on my story from one reader.

teamhathaway commented on your story ‘Live To Kill’.

Glee replaced my anger almost immediately as I opened the comment.

“I read Daydreams to my class and now I have to read this book too. It’s really an amazing work.”

My heart was elated. Somebody was reading my stories to kids? I felt honoured. I honestly didn’t know what to respond.

So I said, “You read Daydreams to your class? Well that’s so awesome. Do you like ‘Live To Kill’ too? I am so honoured. I have no words to express my gratitude.”

teamhathaway… “Thanks, my kids are blind.”

My whole word seemed to shake. She liked my stories so much that she was reading it to children who had never seen the light of the day?

I dithered on what to reply.
“Oh! That’s so sad,” I said finally.

I was speechless and I had to sit down to prevent my hands from shaking.

teamhathaway...."They look forward to see what happens.”

Another jolt. Those kids wait for my updates and I’m like having a writer’s block.

The more I thought, the guiltier I felt.

“That’s so nice,” was what I could only say.

I silently put down my phone, suddenly realizing that my cheeks were wet again.

I didn’t know for how long I sat there, staring out of the window. I got up when I realized that I was cold. The dew had flown in through the window and landed on my lap.

I was not in control of my feelings anymore.

My writing was helping blind children to get their entertainment?

Why me? There are a thousand good books out there.

And then I realised. ‘Why me?’ wasn't the question.

Since it’s me, so I was the one who had to live up to that task.
And the first step to that was, never to give up.

I was no longer another writer, who hankers after votes and likes, recognition and popularity.

I was someone whom a few kids, young and old look at expectantly for a new part to their favourite story.

The burden was bearing down on me. But I knew that I was strong. I would never let failures overpower me.

I grabbed another cup of coffee, and opened my laptop. As my fingers touched the keys, words seemed to flow automatically.

Somehow I had found my muse. Something I had believed to be a myth too.

Two people, two lives.

One close, one far.

One I meet occasionally, one I’ll meet never.

One that has talent, a young spirited woman, and the other, an experienced middle-aged lady, who has compassion and a dedication to love the blind children in foster care.

And in the background of the two faces, a group of children appear.

I could visualize them waiting.

Life has snatched away their light, but never could daunt their determination.

And I am the one who has to go on writing, for their sake.

And the first chapter of my story had ended. I left it on a cliffhanger with a note of more to come.

1732 words completed.

A/N
Dedicated to Alyssa, Austin, Michael, John, Linda and Nathan, the teens (My team Romitri) and April, Angie, Nicole, Jack, Mary, Bill and Justin (My team Hathaway).
They are the children who inspire me.

Dedicated to Shannon Murphy teamhathaway, the person who takes care to read the stories to them.

And the last and the best, my own senior, Tanushree Sharma tanuandchamp…My real life muse. (Don’t go to search for her stories on Wattpad, because she isn’t that active.) Thanks everyone for giving a glance at my true life story.

Written for the #chicklitmuse contest by ChickLit

Glossary...

Di is short for Didi, which is elder sister in Hindi and most other Indian languages.