THE FIRST DRAFT

 I read somewhere that “the purpose of the first draft is to simply exist”. This was an idea that gave me immense relief in recent times - times when I wrote nothing other than what I absolutely had to. In the pursuit of academic writing and a short-lived content writing job, I forgot the joy of writing. When I finally told myself that I had to go back to leisure writing, I was appalled at how empty my head was. I could not think of a single thing to write.

Sure, if you gave me a topic, I could make up something and put it out there - but they were not out of my own imagination. The pandemic took away my ability to see beauty in ordinary things. I could no longer look at a passenger in the metro next to me and romanticize her life. There was a lot of strife and conflict around me, that every version of the future looked bleak. I found escape in fantasy books and movies as I was scared of relating to the harsh realities in other kinds of media. It felt like while I still had a lot of words, they had lost their power; they did not bring anyone joy.

But thankfully, life had saved small moments of redemption for me; mostly they were people, sometimes things and often both. In one such moment, someone very dear to me gifted me Misha Collins’ poetry book “Some things I still can’t tell you”. I enviously read his beautiful poems about mundane things like his jog, re-reading a book and brown hens. I willed the universe to give me back my ability to see such extraordinary words in everyday things - nothing came to me. Disappointed, I moved to the next part of the book. There was a poem that was titled ‘These Days’. The last few lines of the poem reads,

                        “My puffed cheek soaks our pillow

                         And I cry.

                         No known reason–

                         Just tears on my side,

                         Slightly fetal,

                         Hidden

                         Sad to my bones.”

No line of poetry had resonated so well with me before. If Misha who found joy in the smallest things could feel sadness to his bones, there was hope for my poor words yet. The book and everything associated with it was my saving grace for a brief moment.

Then I remembered the quote about the first draft. I told myself that I did not want to create a piece that moved mountains. All I wanted was 2 paragraphs. Perfection was never the aim of this blog. So I started writing………………………….

…………………..And this is my first draft. First drafts usually go in for rounds of editing - not this one. This ranty, imperfect piece can be preserved here as it is. So that when people find this, they can also be reminded that sometimes things can serve a purpose simply by existing - just like this draft! It gave me hope that one day, I will still be able to find wonder when I look at the world. This first draft is a reminder to future Stephy that she persisted in writing, even when she did not have any ideas. 

Finally, this draft is a thank you. To friends, who did not mind my forced cheer. To dear ones, who tried to do everything to bring back my smile. To my therapist for her empathy and for making me write gratitude letters to myself. And to Lois’ teacher who, despite not having met me even once, was kind enough to ask her if I was still writing and gave me validation when I desperately needed it. My gratitude and love to all of you, who made this first draft, a finished product.