The Novel

ONE LAST STEP

When you face failure for the first time, you get a rage to get succeed. When you conquer success you push yourself to whatever to maintain the bullshit status of a successful man. We all know life is all about ups and downs but there was a time when your draft is like a dead person's health report, nothing but a straight flat line. And that is the moment both your willpower and mind give up at the same time. Anyone can give up but not a writer because all a writer need is paper and a pen to but all his idea and began the work. This is how I work all the time but right now after facing nothing than failure for the past few years I slowly started to give up on myself and my passion. I don't know what's holding me not to give up.

I want to give out the best to my readers "Oh I'm sorry to the readers I forgot there's no one left from my side". I decided to give something useful everyone but I can't pen down anything. I never sat like this without working or penning down something. For more than a week I'm sitting like a statue holding pen. Sometimes I feared and sometimes I cried all alone. Whenever I'm upset or down I use to read my diary so I did the same, I know I had read this over hundred times but I felt nothing is interesting than my own life. I laughed at my own life whenever I read my diary. The mistakes I do especially my marriage at a young age was my favourite part. Yeah! I love my wife and my daughter but I can't regret my own mistake. My mistakes and my worse decisions that dump me like garbage, I laughed. And all of sudden I realized that I'm laughing without my self-control.

"Wait, I'm laughing even when I'm in worries," I thought.

"Yeah! My own life makes me laugh"

"If that so it can be my trump card".

"If I can laugh at my own life why can't others"

"Yeah, why can't others". "This is it".

And finally I got the break I'm looking for, nothing can be better than my own story. Nothing is so entertainment than my own stupid life. I decided to narrate my own life from a third person point of view; I titled it as "The Book of My Life".

I literally penned down everything I did from my childhood to the current day. I wrote about my inspiration, my urge for success, my success, my failure, my pain, my cry, my sweet and sour moments, my love, my Sindhu and my Sabarna, my adamant mind, my selfishness, my decisions, my path, my vision, my everything. I penned down everything so carefully. I want readers to understand whatever mistakes I do so they don't do that in their own life. I describe a lot how I isolated from my own family even at their last moments where my mother put sick in bed. I gave lot importance to my egotist decision in my book so no one does the same. I don't take me much time to pen down everything. I just wrote a new diary for an open library, I smiled, cried when I write. I worked without giving any break. I know my wife is really worried but I have to do something for my dying carrier. I just took exactly one whole week to complete the first draft. I took another week to edit it.

I started to search for publishers but no one came up front to publish my book. The editors rejected after going through my first draft. I did whatever I can to push my work to get published but nothing worked so I decided to publish the book by myself. I know it cost more than enough what I have now, I have no money so I asked my wife to fund and she did with no regression, I understood how much she loves and trusts me from this. The smile and hug she gave me are enough for me to face another one hundred worries. With her money I printed as much as possible, I don't spend much on cover design. Due to the shortage of money, I couldn't afford a quality paper for printing but this is enough for now. I convinced myself and did it. I ended up holding few hundred copies; I went to store by store carrying my book. I talked, argued, screamed, and begged. I started to sell the book half price than it cost, I believed the reader will love and they will demand more copies.

There are few stores where they completely threw me away due to my ugly past. Those are the places I stood shamelessly till they accept, the worst place in the bookstore where my first book sold like festival special crackers. Now they shopkeeper is not even ready to listen to my words.

"Common give me one last chance man, this book will seriously workout trust me for the sake of my talent" I begged like threatening.

"I know you are talent reader and sometimes you write good but that doesn't mean you are a capable writer Deepak. It worked for you once, it's a luck that it" he argued back.

"Please don't say it worked by luck, it's my work and readers loved it and..." even before I finish he lost his patience.

"Deepak cut the crap, I do business I don't want something that doesn't even sell in my store. You can go and check for yourself ur unsold previous works in my store where I kept on fifty to seventy percent lightening deal" he pointed my previous book in the rack and exhausted.

"Deepak try to accept what readers said about it. It's over Deepak you must be doing something else that works for you this is not your platform. The trend is changing I'm sure you won't survive for real".

His words brought tears to my eyes but I controlled.

"Don't forget how much you were pleased after my first book". While I talk I can literally see he has zero interest. All of sudden he left me when a young guy arrived in the shop. He went and pleased with a smile, he encouraged him just like the way he did to me after my first book. The young guy literally enjoys it without knowing the bullshit business tack ticks behind it. He spent a decent amount of time with that young guy while the young guy looks at me with a wired look. I know the shopkeeper left me so I can leave the shop but I'm not in a mood to give up now. I stood with patience after some time the shopkeeper again pleased him and came over to me.

"May I know for what you are waiting here Deepak?" he asked with impatience.

"You don't need to buy my book just keep it on the first rack that's enough" I decided to donate my work.

"Are you serious, the first rack, only top and fast selling deserve that rack and..."

"Stop it and just accept it, you don't need to pay anything just let me know if my books were sold out" I pledged.

"Yeah done" he accepted without any choice. I gave him few copies and left the place with jealous about the young guy who achieved success at this young age.

After I ran out with all the copies I frequently visited all the stores to check and to my surprise, nothing sold out. I waited for a phone call, days passed, weeks passed and months passed no phone call came and finally I accepted my failure and what readers said "looser writer". I officially posted that I quit writing on my personal blog and I received a hell of a response and mostly sarcastic where readers express their joy over my decision. I cried out loud lying on my wife's lap. She tried to convince me but nothing worked. I destroyed my own carrier with my stupid ego. She insisted to go for a job as soon as possible so I don't feel any bad by putting myself buys on something.

I got an offer from one of my publishing company where they regret I'm a writer but accepted that I'm a great reader. I was hired to review books, I read a lot now more than I use to before. I get free passes to attend crossword from the media side. Life was bad but not worse.