Indian writing is of age now. Has been for a while at least is what we see and understand. In reality bites, some writers have actually taken a good grasp of what we as a people want to read. We want goo and we want mush. That is much clear.
Most of us want stories of dreams and drama and both of them being fulfilled at the end of the day. Happy endings are what we live for. Whatever be the true state of our own lives, we would love to hear lived happily ever after in what we read.
Tradition and mythology are again what makes us feel well and makes our world tick. Books concerning these almost always do well. Look at what happened to the Shiva Trilogy. It rocked. And gave Amish Tripathi the conviction and the mould to pen down the Scion of Ikshvaku. But what really is remarkable in our mindsets is that we love reading books which we can pick up off-the-shelf at reasonable costs. Who cares about having more than two to three coffee table hardbacks? Softbacks, but priced between Rs 100 to Rs 250, are a raging hit nowadays. One can spend one or two evenings with, and we are done with them.
Also, it is that little story which we can empathize with, that we like to see in the books we read. It leaves out of our lives, but put down in a more colourful manner, that are eminently readable. Again, a footnote for all budding novelists is that one must be very careful with the English wordage we use. It has to be trendy, not necessarily correct British or American English, but words used in everyday language but with a swag.
Pret words are a real hit when choosing an author to read. Someone who makes us chime in with the world of the MNCs and gets us going in our own brat pack as far as the hip lingo goes, is decidedly considered a better author. After all books like Stilettos in the Newsroom by Rashmi Kumar, Nothing for you my dear, still love you by Arpit Dugar, Sweet Kiss, Sour Kiss by Neha Desai, The Marriage Bureau for Rich People by Farahad Zama, or even Mandar Kokate’s Oh Shit, Not Again, The Morning After by Kamini Patel, Dark White by Shweta Brijpuria, to rattle off a few, are reflections of just this. Put down thoughts, things which do happen to the normal, everyday person, and try to make a go out of it when it comes to unfolding dramatic events.
Politically correct writing, for the people of today, is what will help them jell well in their peer group. No one wants any melodrama, live real, be real, is the whole sole crux. Also, as is being repeated, live well. No more of poverty getting glorified in books. Sadly, no more of physical challenges getting accepted. This, last, is rather a bit sad in the turn of writing news bulletins. We do not want any glorification of something bad that has happened to us in life. Even if there is a death in the family, be over and done with it, live on, is what gets told and sold.
The globe as on date is a fast paced environment. Our books are a mirror image of this. Any material of living life in the fast lane sells well. It is what the youth wants – to break the mould and scale heights of these materialistic times we function in.
A repercussion of such books being written is rather whimsical. What has actually happened is that there is not much left for our mamas, papas and grandparents to read now unless they tighten up their seatbelts and are prepared to join this new age world.
They should be okay reading about living in relationships, multiple relationships, and what not! Such things are a dime a dozen in upmarket literature. For one thing, parents cannot raise their eyebrows anymore are the issues like their sons or daughters adopting children in place of bearing them. Marrying late, especially when it comes to girls has been around for a while now, it’s not a cause for concern. But having a single child or being a DINKS couple is so much on the rise, that this particular issue is a bit alarming.
Chicklets, or books, which are easy and quickly read, due to the less number of pages and simple writing, are what are in demand today. As it comes through, nor does the writer have the time to sit down and harp on a big manuscript running into the hundreds of pages. Neither do readers have the energy to pick up a huge volume, however engrossing it may be.
Something which will give us an evening to remember, some me-time spent pondering over good fact or fiction, and also enrich our souls with light-hearted wit and plots is what the writing on the wall for wannabe author is.
Crafted with brevity for select stories to make certain you see what others don't; sent every Friday
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