Presently biding my time : Juggling among my family duties, ambition and passion.
As I secretly follow my dream of : Stretching leisurely onthe hammock, tied to the pillars of the patio of my colonial style villa that I am yet to build, with the money that I am yet to earn, reading the first copy of my critically acclaimed novel that I am yet to write.
As good as : Life can ever get.
Part of the : Creative Writing Mentorship Program from 24 January – 11 April, 2015
My Website : Archuz Archive
About being a part of Anita’s Attic Creative Writing program
The twelve Saturdays between January 24, 2015 and April 11, 2015, found me waking up with expectation and anticipation. Someone new to meet, something new to hear and something new to learn. The experts from different realms of the writing world spoke to us every week about not only the nitty-gritties of writing, and publishing but also the realities of a writer’s life. While I received factual and social insights during the morning sessions, the afternoon sessions by Anita Nair herself kept me awake and attentive with innovative tests to explore my writing potential. The casual laid back ambience of the classroom was just perfect to get the creative juices to start flowing. The careful review of my project every week, the thoughtful analyses and notes and the tips to chisel away the excesses while retaining the essence went a long way in bettering my crafting skill and sculpting my writing overall.
By the end of each day, I was a little more enlightened about the art of writing and the state of publishing industry than I was before the start of the day. The best of all, I had learnt to critique my own writing without completely relying on the feedback from my well-wishers alone. I could see scope for improvement in many of my previous writings that I had thought was perfect enough. Be it the dos and don’ts or the before and after of writing, Anita’s Attic has helped me help myself. Thank you Anita for the enriching experience. Coming from a non-literary background, it meant to me a lot.
Archana Vijay’s Bio
Archana Vijay, an engineer by profession, and a blogger by passion lives with her husband and two children in Bangalore. As a native of Pondicherry, her writing journey began from the early adolescent years when she had penned down her thoughts and feelings in her personal diary and had her poem published in a children magazine, ‘Gokulam’. She was one of the editors of her college department magazine in 2003. With advancement in technology, her writing found voice in her blogspot, Archu’s Archive, with a niche readers of her own. After blogging for seven years, she ventured into her debut novella ‘With Love Candy’, self-published in 2012. Encouraged by the response from her readers, she has now progressed to write her second book, a thriller under the guidance and mentorship of Anita Nair.
An Excerpt from Archana's latest published work
I am not a lark. I am an owl. I used to like those long and lone hours of the night when the world is silent except for the sound of snores. When the creatures of the world are lost in the world of their own.
The memories of my younger days when I read thrillers under my bedside lamp, when I treated my lips to Ladoo, an all-time favorite midnight snack without getting caught or scolded by mommy, still lingers in my heart. Those were the nights when lust was not even the farthest thought of my mind. And then he came.
He was lean and tall and filled me with lies that I loved to hear. He leeched into my life and made it seem lush and green, like the meadows in The Sound of Music. So thoroughly mesmerized by fairy tale endings, I let him take me away from all the things that I loved and cared about. I let him lure me to his loathsome world devoid of fairies of any sort. It is that world, his world that I don’t live but inhabit today.
He comes over me every night with a leer and I have to co-operate. That’s the first rule of marriage. Husband demands and wife submits. That’s his first rule of marriage. I cannot lament out aloud what’s eating the cells of my brain as he devours my skin. I cannot label it as rape. How can a husband rape his wife? Indian Law isn’t exactly helping me either. I have no choice. My nights have changed. No more books, no more Ladoo. I lie still every night under him, like a log, waiting for the lie that has become my life to die, waiting for my life to die.