Writing is a strange journey. It takes you from one nutty world to another.

I’d always been a bookish guy. You know the type who’d jump from the flight or train and rush a cab to the nearest used-bookstore. Yet, once a renowned filmmaker emailed me asking to write a movie and I did. Then I began lurking around and writing more scripts. None of those got made for no wrong reasons of mine 🙂

Meanwhile, I set out to write a novel. It stole about five years of mine. And the first thing I promised soon after shutting down my Macbook after ‘the end’ was oh-lord-never-a-novel-again! But in a few weeks time, here I am once again typing down a new one. Cruel: it’s not just one, but a series!

All writers are born mad. We already know that. Well, you know that. But we never recon it. On some maddening day, like a glint of light streaming through a window slit, the realisation hits us: gosh, yea, we’re mad.

So here I am. On a journey to do one more. Not even knowing what would happen to the first manuscript sitting in my drawer. Along with a few screenplays typed and neatly spiral-bound. No, I’m not interested anymore in discussing movie projects. If it happens, let it happen, I don’t care a damn 😀

Like the prisoner chained to a stone dome and hurled down a cellar in a damp tower up a cold mountain, I’ll sit in this tenth floor room and try to pitter-patter out another one.

This time I grew so mad that what’s coming off my keyboard is a supernatural world peopled with never-heard-before kind. Let’s see if this too will go into drawer or into the dustbin. Do I care? Na!

Warned you: we are the maddest ones walking on this earth 😀