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The next writer in our series is Sharanya Deepak. Inspired by Roald Dahl’s writing space and routine, we have been asking our writers to tell us about their writing schedule.

Sharanya Deepak is the author of The Vampire Boy, a hOle book, the book of the month this month on the Duckbill Gang website.

OI have often wondered what it would be like to wake up everyday and breathe in fresh air. Maybe go for a run, cook breakfast and hum whilst. Listen to the birds and smile at the general beauty of life. After doing all this, I would sit down at a window that looks onto green fields to write my book.

There have also been alternate visions.

…I have wondered what it would be like to wake up at noon and have my mind racing from the sheer genius that was my existence. My brain would be revolting, even in sleep. My teeth would chatter as I typed vigorously on a typewriter (chain smoking for effect). I would be a writer of my time, churning prose against the state, exposing evils and bringing justice, and not taking ANY help from thesaurus.com.

I have often wondered all of this, but it is mostly while I log into my Facebook before opening both eyes or brushing my teeth. I have reacted to this wondering while I screamed at fictional Hemingway in Midnight in Paris insisting that “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO LIVE IN TWO WORLDS, ERNEST!”. I have gone to bed everyday determined to wake up and learn the art of discipline, but the next day it has been Eleven a.m and time for a TLC Marathon.

The point of all the preceding drama is to illustrate that I have a hard time writing at home. Being at home makes me lazy. I cannot deny the allure of three lunches, endless meaningless liking of peoples’ things on Facebook or an entire morning spent taking ‘Which Game of Thrones character are you’ tests. Being at home makes me lazy, hysterical and sometimes incredibly sorry for myself. I wrote most of The Vampire Boy in McLeodganj. I’d go into patches of forest and find a spot to write. I would often go to cafes but not really get much done there as I usually ate myself sick. But it helped me to get away from home. Home is where I sit around and at my dog and eat bags of soya sticks. Home is where I do dances in my sister’s room as she tries to get work done and throws pencils at me.

These days I have tried getting out of the house to the nearest wifi cafe, and it has sort-of begun to work. I haven’t got much done in the past four months (I take every opportunity to complain— Sorry), but it helps to get out. But because cafes are expensive and also shut at night, I do still write at home. Sometimes late nights/early mornings I get a lot done lying in bed and pat myself on the shoulder for almost a week. Maybe one day all this will change. When I buy myself a beach house.

Then there shall be a lot of writing. And a good deal of humming.

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