Mina Rowen

Just finished The Fault in Our Stars  by John Green, and loved it. How could one not love that book? It's got the biting realistic character. After being on Movellas for a year and reading the story of far too many Pity-Sues, it's good to see a main character face adversity of the worst kind and not take it lying down. She fights without announcing it to the world. Hazel actually has a brain. There is reality and a bitter beauty in the story that isn't found in any sappy sweet (and equal parts disgusting) romance that pretends to deal with deeper psychological issues (50 Shades of Grey, anyone?). I loved everything about the book, even that it made me cry at 11:30 at night, tears streaming down my face like some kind of maniac. I loved Hazel, Gus, and even Isaac who isn't even there most of the time. 

Yes, it has been too long. Wrapped up in my erratic Internet availability and the sudden onslaught of college work, I was forced to choose between a few things. I chose exercise over writing this blog. But I'm back with not a bang, but an airy sound of relief, signalling that this blog will not be abandoned, not completely at least. What to write about? Yes, in the past three weeks, I touched a dead arm with my bare hands. No, I didn't go all Dexter Morgan. It was a dissected hand, we were studying the anatomy of it. I also pricked my finger five times on purpose, for a blood test. Not fun at all. In my spare time, I crossed the 50,000 word mark on my novel Dragon Day, and managed to learn to whistle. Quite an accomplishment. Well, this post is short and has no point. It had to end somewhere. That's here. 

                The city that I currently reside in is in one word, wet. There is no other word to describe this city. Believe me, I have tried. In the two weeks since I have arrived, it has only rained once. Nonetheless, let me assure you, the city is wet. It rests next to the ocean, and the air is filled with water and salt here.                 My home is a town that masquerades as a city. It has a certain rustic charm. In the street next to mine there is a diary with real live buffalos. There is more heat than one could ever wish for, and enough sun to light up the entire world. It is a city famous for its cotton and chili peppers. But the heat there is dry, it’s stifling but there’s comfort in that heat. It’s the daily fire that I grew up in.                 My temporary home is not dry. Even the heat is murky, soiled by the intervention of the sea. Usually the mornings start with a slight fog and one of my sneezing fits. Then the fog lifts up, but the cloudy sky doesn’t

My life at the present moment is erratic, just like my Internet connection. Yes, I am stuck at home without an Internet connection. My usage depends on the availability of an Internet 3G card which my father currently has. Whenever he's home, whenever I can sneak the device to my room, whenever my sister doesn't reveal her banshee side and demand, that's the only time I can use it to access the Internet. Yes, I'm going to drown in the downpour of your pity. But the one good thing about not having the Internet... absolutely no distractions. TV has become something of the last decade and most days now I don't go near the remote. Instead I have just been working on my stories. Two chapters each for Dragon Day and In Love and War. I was surprised at my own efficiency. Well, like I said, the availability to Internet has been erratic. Sorry to post and run, but it's sort of what has to be done.

Yes, I'm writing another post. It's either I shun the computer for a week, or else embrace it tightly and have to have it wrenched out of my grip. I am, of course, as bored as ever today. I'm writing this, and in the middle, taking care of my mom who is feeling under the weather. It is, after all, monsoon season. So, I googled myself. Not my real name, but my pen name, Mina Rowen. Don't stare at my blog post condescendingly, or worse, with pity. We've all done it at one point or another. I was surprised by the results. The first result is my page on movellas, the second is a Sailor Moon fan-fiction with the characters Mina and Rowen. I passed over that quickly. For those of you who don't know what Sailor Moon is, it's this really old anime show that's aimed at girls. The girl has super powers or something, she morphs into Sailor Moon. I used to watch it when I was five and didn't know better. Don't ask for more. I'm not going to go look it

I'm clueless now. I know some of you must have remembered that I was trying to post everyday before. That went out the window a long time ago. Life has been hectic recently, trips to weird places and meetings with unfamiliar people. Nothing that I can describe in detail, and nothing really interesting at all. In the last month, I felt like I was immune to writers' block. I was invincible and the words kept flowing. Now, I'm at a stalegate. I don't know if anyone's reading this blog. Most likely, the 27 views are just mine. So, far it's taken me half-an-hour to write this post. Yes, I know it's pathetic. I finished the first three chapters of Dragon's Day in nine hours. Nine hours I wrote continuously, not moving away from my laptop. Now, I'm stuck. Stuck like a truck in New York rush hour. Or like a ladybug that's been turned upside down. And I don't know what to do. My writer's block has spread to even my application for th

If anyone on Movellas is reading this right now, stop if you're a Directioner. I promised myself that I would blog everyday and this is one of my impromptu rants. It really irks me that most people on the site call themselves "writers". You know what I think of when I think "writers"? I think "artists of the written word", not "half-illiterate nut-cases who write dirty things". Grammar is forgotten. Punctuation is forgotten. Decency is left to the wind. It's supposed to be a site for teenagers for goodness sakes. It's supposed to be a place for expressing the story that you want to tell! I understand a few movellas now and then where you become one of the characters. But asking people if they want to be characters for the sake of favorites and likes, is in poor taste. Trading reads and comments, I completely understand. Trading favorites and likes? I really don't. Manners is another thing that is often forgotten on t

I just wanted to write something about the monsoon right now. The season's started, inciting in me a strange sense of general happiness. I was never a sunny day kind of girl, preferring those days with the sullen gray skies and smell of fresh earth. Today is one of those days. Rain is falling outside the window, and the normally sweltering heat has stepped back, letting us all revel in the cool embrace of rain. Monsoon season is my favorite. My mind has somehow managed to block out negative thoughts of the rise in malaria during this season, the colds that I find myself afflicted with, and the occasional walks home during a sudden downpour. Because this moment, right now, me sitting on my warm bed typing this up, dry while everything outside gets cleansed by the rain, is perfect. And yes, in a sappy fashion, I'm listening to bollywood songs on rain. And some tollywood as well.

I hate when writers say they can't "find inspiration". Or other such phrases, such as "Creatively blocked", "stuck" yada yada yada. Inspiration is everything around you. Imagine a story for everything that you see, from the antique watch your mother has not changed since her wedding, to a pair of sunglasses that remind you of Breakfast at Tiffany's . I'm just saying, I hate when people ask for ideas. "Guys, I don't know what to write! Ideas, please!" Writers don't do that. Our writing is equally about what we write and how we write it. And if what we write is an idea donation from somebody else, our work ceases to be ours. It's like putting together  the furniture that comes in the box as individual parts. Yes, you put it together, but if you claim that you made it, people will only laugh at you. Yes, everyone gets stuck once in a while. Suffer through it like a man, or woman, or whatever. Just go through

Today I was writing like crazy, not because I had a sudden burst of genius, no. That never happens to me by the way. I was writing like crazy because I was blocked. I've heard all this advice online about when we're stuck on a story, it's best to get away from it. I can't do that. My story is all I've got when I'm stuck. My mind plays out all possible scenarios that could happen, all directions the plot could take, all the snarky wordplay that could go in there. And I cannot stay away from typing. I know this is my first post, but I want to get into it. I don't do blogging. I've never done it before, at least not successfully. Disappointed by the lack of interest, I would give up. But this time, I'm not writing for anybody's interest. I'm writing for myself, a refreshing change. This blog will cover what I'm writing, how I'm writing, and the hurdles that I face along the way. And if people actually read it, then no loss.