A few days ago, I was feeling rather sorry for myself.
Sorry that I never learned writing formally. That I didn’t ever learn composition. That I simply began writing one cold December (or January?) day — sad, lonely, homesick. That I, despite having written diligently in English all my life, still fumble for words, phrases. That I get tons of “likes” from my Indian friends but very few from my American ones.
Perhaps my writing only appeals to Indians? Because I write in a typically Indian-born-American-resident-writing-in-English manner?
(Does any kind of writing have universal appeal? Why am I bothered?)
But then it occurred to me that this is the perhaps the best time for a “hybrid” writer like me. My writing cannot be divorced from who I am. It can be read and appreciated only on its own terms. I cannot write like an American. Because all my writing is personal, it is inextricably tied to my life, my personal narrative, and all the little-big stories I carry within me. And that is perhaps its biggest strength.
Lori says:
I struggle with similar worries and insecurities. I don’t think your writing is the one that appeals to a certain public, but maybe it is the shared experience that attracts.
Sorry I am not an American “Like” but just another transplant here, who often fumbles with English too, and as many times tries to see it as personal style quirk and innovation, rather than inappropriate use of language.
May 8, 2017 — 7:20 am
Lakshmi says:
You said it perfectly, Lori. It isn’t about striving to write like an American or Indian or anyone else… but you.
May 9, 2017 — 9:49 am
Brook says:
Lakshmi, I’ve been following your blog for quite some time, and although I have been meaning to comment for almost as long as I’ve been reading, for some reason I never do. (Don’t worry — this says more about my insecurities about my own writing than it does about yours!). However, reading this post, where you so candidly express your fears about your writing, convinced me it was finally time to say something — anything, really — to show you that your writing has a broader reach than you may realise. I am a New Zealander living in Australia, so clearly I cannot speak for Americans. And, I must concede, Lori may have a point. Perhaps your writing, which deals so little with the material and so much with the spiritual, in a time when people seem to like things the other way around, is not the kind to attract numerous readers and their “likes.” However, this does not in any way diminish its beauty, which is clearly visible to those who are ready to see it. Each post you share is wonderfully composed, and you write so eloquently about the many small moments that make up not only your life, but our lives (the “shared experience,” as Lori puts it), that I’ve come to feel a very real sense of connection not only with you, through the narrow window into your life that this blog provides, but also with the world around me. As a person who finds it all too easy to detach from the rest of humanity, your writing serves as a tether: it reminds me that there is still much good in the world, and much beauty. And while I can’t speak for anyone else, I could always do with this reminder.
May 9, 2017 — 1:07 am
Lakshmi says:
Thanks for reading my posts, and thanks for your beautiful comment, Brook. I am overwhelmed. 🙂
May 9, 2017 — 9:52 am
Brook says:
You don’t need to thank me for reading your posts, Lakshmi. The pleasure is all mine. I’m just thankful that I stumbled across your voice in a sea of others. I look forward to your next post.
May 9, 2017 — 8:39 pm
Shoba Sriaiyer says:
People read all kinds of writers depending on mood, phase of life, interests. I love your style as I do many others’, many of them are non-Indian writers – I grew up in India and then Japan, then USA. But, there are plenty of Indian writers I don’t take to – all kinds of readers will like you. Keep writing!
May 9, 2017 — 10:17 am
Lakshmi says:
You are right, of course. I feel that people gravitate to a certain sensibility, and writing style may be one aspect of it. Thanks, Shoba.
May 10, 2017 — 10:55 am
dan says:
Well speaking as an American born of a French / Indian [Cherokee] Father and a Scandinavian Mother [Finish and Sweedish]. I can honestly tell you that there is no such thing as pure American. We are a culmination of our originations, the people we meet, and the introduction of new cultures to our country. While English is our common thread to share ideas. I find our native languages work their way into our vernacular. Examples;
Italian influence. To help someone understand our words we ask them “do you capisci?” Which is Italian for do you understand but drives the point home
Finish influence; SISU. It has no direct translations but to mean someone who is determined and pig headed.
French influence; je ne sais quoi. What in French means literally means I don’t know what…but means an intangible quality that makes something distinctive or attractive. Its a slang expression to the French language
Spanish influence; El Carajo. That means the lookout basket in the top mast of a Spanish galeon ship. Sailors would get very sea sick when assigned to this post, so when they would think of becoming mutinous, the captain would send them up to the carajo as punishment. Hence the Spanish expression is used to tell someone to “take a hike” but VERY harsh so careful how you use that word 🙂
Recently I have learned in Japanese…Shogani [show-gan-I] …which means it just can’t be helped.
If all remains true of my above referenced examples. In time Indian words will find themselves as uniquely American phases.
May 10, 2017 — 10:52 am
Lakshmi says:
True. What I was alluding to is a certain writing style commonly seen across the Internet that could probably be called “American,” simply because it is used by Americans who were born/educated in this country.
I use “c’est la vie” all the time, so I know what you mean. And no, I won’t use “el carajo” any time soon. 🙂
May 10, 2017 — 11:01 am