#loveforwriting

Holding on tightly to mamma's finger,

Our first fear was getting lost in the crowd

Then we grew up,

Held many other hands and let go of some

Slowly we saw our fear change

From getting lost to feeling lost amidst a crowd.

As a kid, we woke up in the middle of the night,

And then didn't go back to sleep

Thinking there might be demons under our bed

But as an adult,

it's harder to get any sleep

Because demons moved from under our beds to inside our heads.

Good day fellow writers! This blog will be about writing tips, tricks, hacks, and maybe you'll even meet some of my OCs and get sneak peaks into my work in progresses (WIP)!

Hope you guys like it and leave me your comments and feedback. You can even tell me what you would like to see next.

Hi! This is a fairly tall, healthy, good looking, sassy girl, inspired by a newly made friend to start off  blogging. Having completed my graduation in Journalism, & having written blogs as part of my curriculum, writing occasionally was a practice.  Posting handwritten notes & letters, getting creative as & when the situation demands is a part of my life. I believe there’s no better gift than a handmade article.

My interest lies in a lot of creative bits & bobs, like reading, trying my hand at jewelry making, trying new cuisines and dishes, pot painting, canvas painting, fabric painting, and the like.

I am an HR by profession and an artist by choice. I love doing things out of the box and getting away from the mundane tasks of everyday life gives me a high. Monotony gets me down to my toes & I like keeping myself up & going all day. It's high time that I've wanted to do something that I'd be proud of one day and today is no better day than yesterday.

This would be my first hand at blogging and I intend to essentially write about Skin & Hair Care, about Travel & Food, and much more.

I would like to hear from my audience as to what they would like to read from me apart from the list mentioned.

Love,

His hair is grey

And vision is blurred

His spends his day

In bed, one-third.

He taught me to read,

And told me to lead.

He taught me to write,

And told me to fight.

Evening's he spent

Saying his prayer.

He hates to depend

Loves his arm chair.

Night's he spent

Telling us tales

About the places he went

With all the details.

A child's first teacher

Is it's mother

But my first teacher

Is my grandfather.

His hair is grey

And vision is blurred

His smile never fades

He's my world.