Ruminations on the written word instantly conjure up stunning success stories of the likes of Rowling, Rushdie and Desai. Of how wielding the pen has become not just a viable but even cushy career option. Of how penning blasphemous verses can fetch you international recognition. Of how young scribes can put down thinly-veiled memoirs to grab a million-dollar advance with overseas publishers. But look a little closer. Through the illusion of glamour, you catch the gritty reality of the author as he really is – chasing a chimera in the isolated maze of his or her own world, often stumbling over achingly frustrating mental blocks and grappling with commercial constraints to give birth to a work of pain, sweat and toil. A labour of love.

It takes more than meticulous character sketching, a startling wizardry with words and a manic hunger for creating plots to write a novel. It also takes immense discipline and an uncontrollable desire to write and pour the essence of your being into the creative crucible. “I wish I could spout rhetoric and say writing is as demanding as squeezing blood out of stone. Perhaps not. But for me writing is probably the loneliest pursuit in the world,” says Githa Hariharan, author of the award-winning novel, The Thousand Faces of Night. Nonetheless she wields the pen as it gives her the pleasure to simply write and race along with her thoughts. Of course, there are long hours – of reading, digesting, ruminating, more reading, writing and rewriting that go into the making of a novel. On a day-to-day basis, Hariharan spends a lot of time with people who have absolutely nothing to do with writing, which she finds truly restful.

But the word rest is often an impossible luxury for constantly-on-their-feet souls who are circumscribed within a demanding family grid. Often there are full-time jobs to be juggled along with personal writing and family demands. Former journalist Chatura Rao wrote her first novel Amie and the Chawl of Colour, a children’s fantasy, when her first born was 11 months old. The writer lived in a one-bedroom apartment sharing the computer with her husband. “The television would be on at full volume (not a single cricket match must be missed!). My daughter would be crawling around my chair. You could say I was born to produce in mayhem. Now that sounds like a great title for a story!” Rao continues to have a busy schedule straddling writing with two small children, teaching and other projects. Interestingly she still sees the process of writing as an escape. “A relief from linear time and space and a pragmatic lifestyle. A way to go off by myself to other places, people and lives. A vast personal space to wander off into.”

Yet she does write to briefs. She writes short stories off and on. But in general, she believes small things in daily living spark off the story. So an author’s life is not really separate from his or her writing. Rao believes the story has a life of its own. Once conceived, it grows in the mind, then on paper. It works itself out through the author’s pen or keyboard.
But the times are changing. A successful print run in a genre often sees the churning out of literature in similar categories. Do writers actually keep the saleability factor in mind while writing? “In my mind, both as a publisher and writer, I perceive it as a kiss of death to worry about the market,” says David Davidar, author of The House of Blue Mangoes. “You need to write for yourself and yourself alone. If you focus on what might appeal to a large universe of readers, you do yourself in instantly. Truth is you can never please everyone.”

Few know that at 22, Davidar penned down a semi-autobiographical work A Place for Anger. The story revolved around a young man who arrives in the city of Mumbai to make it big. Davidar approached a British-based publisher who turned down the manuscript. He believed then that it did not merit a print run at all. “But I was unaware of the reality at that time – that at least 12-14 publishers turn down your manuscript before one finally approves of it the first time around.”

Consider also that in Indian publishing, a paltry Rs 25,000 as a signing amount or advance for a novel is not really off the mark. Financial security comes easier for overseas writers who often have several options like being a teacher, obtaining a grant and being a writer in residence while their ideas germinate and gestate and take coherent form on paper. As with other professions, if one works solely or primarily for the money, there is little joy to be had, cautions award-winning journalist and author Sonia Faleiro. Writing is arduous and nerve-wracking. A book can take interminably long to produce and the process causes anxiety and uncertainty. But this wouldn’t change if I received more money or less for my work. Like other professions, there is an earning graph in writing as well. The notion that creative people must starve for their art, live in garrets and feast on a mouldy apple a day has mercifully faded with time. Financial security, as Ernest Hemmingway once said, keeps you from worrying. “Worry destroys the ability to write. I’d rather not have to worry,” says Faleiro.