To shoot a film alone

Maybe you want to be a film-maker, maybe you want to be a youtuber, maybe you want to be a storyteller in general or maybe you want to be a reporter, shooting a film alone with no budget can help you.

I had been waiting for an opportunity to drop on my lap all this time. I was waiting for someone somewhere to say ‘you know what, you seem talented, let’s make a film together!” but that never happened and that probably would never happen automatically. I even got a crew together to make a film twice but the films never ended up being made. I was not prepared to lead a group of people to make a film.

So, the end of the semester came, and with that came the end of term project. A three minute film that you have to make alone, it is supposed to have no dialogues and it is not supposed to be fictional.

Now, the end product is not as polished as a project done by a team, neither is it’s scale anything special but whatever it is, it is a film and I am proud of that fact. I put together a film from the conception of the idea to planning to shooting to editing to sound designing to finally polishing it. This gives a kind of confidence regardless of its reception that no team project ever could.

I suggest this to not only future content creator but also any laymen because this exercise will change your perspective on yourself. This will help you gain the confidence needed to tackle future projects.

With all of that said, I am proud to announce my film which I will release after submission on 24th November:- The world below.

Advertisements

Method writer

You may have heard of a method actor, the kind of an actor that gets into the head of the character they are portraying and start behaving like their characters in real life. Well now, I introduce to you a method writer. This method of writing is gaining ground in the writer’s community. It means that the author begins to inhabit the life of the character that they seem to be writing.

This method is incredibly helpful for authors that tend to write character focused stories but may seem like extra baggage for plot focused or even world-building focused authors.

I have been trying this method for my most recent novel and out of personal experience, I can say that it takes an enormous toll on you, especially if what you are writing is as sad as what I am writing. But your characters come out to be much better than anything you could have normally even imagined.

Honestly, I have poured my heart, soul and everything I have onto making these characters come to life using this method. Of course I am still not satisfied, the story is only half done and I could perhaps streamline my plot and characters in what I have written but despite all of that, I believe that this method and all its tolls were a fair trade for the characters that I did make.

And so, I hope that whenever it does come out, you can see the effort that I put in crafting these characters.

Suicidal thoughts

No, do not worry, I am not having any suicidal thoughts or anything like that but writing my most recent book, I have been thinking about them. Again I am not having them, just thinking about them.

So I started doing my research about them, I mean I had attained some amount of understanding about the subject previously as I had high school psychology but of course that wasn’t enough so I began my journey through the wide variety sources. I learned that ninety percent of the people that take their own life are suffering from either depression or schizophrenia or similar mental disorders.

So let’s talk about depression, I will not explain how it happens as it will take a long time and take a lot of words but i will explain what it does to you. Depression, contrary to popular belief is not about being sad all the time or hating others, it is instead about losing faith in oneself, how people look at them and their future prospects. With depression, you do not hate the condition you are in or the people that have put them in there because honestly if you are part of a terrible situation, you can blame people to rationalize it or walk out of it. But if you truly detest the person you are stuck with for the rest of your life, which is you, you have no one to blame but yourself and you have nowhere to run. This kind of dilemma makes people loose all emotions and to a very large extent become a zombie absorbed almost completely in the thoughts of their suicide.

Schizophrenia happens when people start believing that their depressive thoughts are a separate entity. Hence they start having auditory hallucinations. These ‘voices’ tend to demean the sufferers and force them to do things that may not be entirely good. The results tend to be quite similar to that of depression and hence, a lot of psychologists tend to mix the two a lot.

So, it really annoys me when people say that ‘suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem’. PEOPLE DON’T KILL THEMSELVES BECAUSE THEY ARE IN A BAD SITUATION, THEY KILL THEMSELVES BECAUSE THEY GENUINELY HATE THEMSELVES.  So if you are suffering from any mental health issue or having suicidal thoughts, please for the love of god and all that is holy SEEK HELP. There is no surefire way to pull you out of your head completely but there is a high possibility that you will feel at least a little bit better.

So, why stories?

Let me let you into a secret, every round character that any story-teller has written is based one or more people from their real life. Conversely, everything that a story-teller hears in their life and interests them makes into their work at some point or another. On top of that, authors and other creatives tend to be the most silent individuals rarely expressing  themselves to anyone.

Why am I telling you these seemingly unrelated things? It’s obviously to answer the question.

Why do we tell stories? Because stories resonate with us, and give us insight into ourselves and the world around us. Every time you read a story or watch a movie, you are directly or indirectly getting to know the creator of the story in ways you wouldn’t, even if you were related to them.  Well, I can’t say that for every author, I mean there might be an ubermensch somewhere in this world that can crank out story after story without deriving anything from their life.

But at least for me, and a lot of authors, scriptwriters and directors I have read about, this holds true. For example, Mercy of gods and men very indirectly chronicles my journey as an author, if you have read it, you will understand, and the protagonist of the book I am currently writing has a very similar internal struggle as I do. In fact, almost every character in that story has a very large influence of people from my life. So, even though, the events of the story never really happened (and I hope they never happen as it is a tragedy), you will be reading my story and will get to know me better than anyone else does.

Hence, to consolidate all of that into one thing, we write stories to tell others what we really can’t in real life. We tell stories to make meaning of the mess we have been handed and to make others understand that meaning.

The sparrow

I sat on the edge of the garden that my past pursuits had afforded me enjoying a cup of tea as I did every evening. Alone with my thoughts and some classical music on my vintage speakers. Recently my thoughts had not been too well, just like it had countless times before.

As I sipped the last of the light brown tea with more milk and cream than tea and precisely three sugar-cubes, I noticed something strange at the bottom of the large mango tree that had been planted the day the house was built.  A bird flailed around unable to fly. It seemed that its wings were damaged. It did not sing like it did before but instead screeched and wailed.

Hence, I decided to see it for myself closely. The bird struggled desperately to push itself off the ground but it kept falling back down as it labored its right wing. It was a sparrow, with its white underbelly, brown feather and black crown. Its black eyes looked up at me with a sorrowful plea for help.

I saw myself in it. I picked it up, after wearing gloves of course. I bought it a cage and ointment to heal the torn wings.

I fed it food every day personally, the most prestigious brand. Its feathers grew lush from the quality of its nourishment. I gave it the cleanest water to bathe in and processed water for it to drink. I hung its cage in the most beautiful part of my property, so that it could enjoy itself.

I thought that it will be happy from all of this. Yet it looked at me with the same sorrowful glare and still did not sing.

I thought maybe he was alone. So I bought another sparrow of the opposite gender to keep it company.

For the next few days, it jumped around the cage joyfully with its partner. They sang their notes together with gaiety unparalleled by their human counterparts. I would sit in my comfortable chair smoking the tobacco that I had cultivated in my own fields, while looking up at the two birds with a smile on my face.

However, a few days later, the sparrow stopped singing once again looking back at me with the same sorrowful eyes. Its partner continued to sing for the next few days before it too stopped.

I asked my friends who had owned a bird. One recommended me a different brand of bird feed saying that it is more natural to what they usually eat. It did not affect the sparrow one bit.

Another told me to let it free in a room. The sparrow was able to hop around and flap its right wing ever so slightly but yet it was not able to fly. It started singing a little but soon enough, it stopped once again.

I grew frustrated, no matter what I did, I could not make the sparrow happy.

Soon enough, it began to lose its health. Its previously lustrous feathers became rugged, it gaze grew ever so lonely and depressed.

I could never understand the sparrow really. I gave it everything that an avian could ever desire and yet it just wouldn’t sing and always stared at me with its depressed gaze.

I decided to ask the sparrow what it needed, I could provide it with anything that it could ever need. It of course did not respond. The birds tend to do that.

On a certain day, I returned back home from my club of slightly gentlemen, I grabbed myself a cup of tea with more milk and cream than tea and water along with the three exact sugar cubes and decided to sit on my chair at the edge of my garden. What I saw, surprised me.

The cage of the sparrow was open with its partner nowhere to be seen. The sparrow sat at the edge of its cage’s door.

It looked at me one last time with eyes of excitement beckoning me to follow him before taking flight. I smiled, finally, I understood what the sparrow needed.

I am more than just my words

I am more than just my words,

Then what Am I?

I ask myself every day.

If I can’t write,

Then what is the point of me?

 

I am more than just my words,

Who will say that?

When I am dead and gone, will

I be retained

For anything but my words?

 

I am more than just my words,

I tell myself

That every day, when I am

Defeated by

My own inability.

 

I ask myself every day,

What can I do?

If I then struggle to do

The only thing

That I can do, how can I

Tell myself that

I am more than just my words?

shattered pride, unbroken will

since it has been exactly one year that I have been writing this blog, here is the first blog post on this website:-

I was 12 when I started writing my first novel. I used to be so proud of the fact that I could write at such a young age. I used to consider myself better than everyone else. I guess that is a tendency that every child has, the moment when he finds even a shred of talent within himself, they start believing that they are the best not realizing that there are millions of other individuals with equal amount of talent.  Needless to say, this pride was shattered rather quickly. I had given the first draft of my book to one of my friends to read and review and oh boy, the response I got…

I was destroyed by the negative feedback that I received. A quick background:- I wasn’t particularly good at anything other than storytelling, I was average at academics, I always had too weak a body to do sports and music while fascinating me, was something I couldn’t grasp no matter how hard I tried. Finding out about the poor quality of my work tore me apart. I was thirteen and I had an identity crisis, ridiculous notion I know. But that wasn’t the last time I ever wrote. You see, most people would quit trying to write and instead focus on academics hoping that they would get back to writing once more some day. But I am not most people. I am Aditya Bhartiya Mathur and I am the most stubborn person that I have ever met. I always get what I want (unless it directly harms someone else).  I scrapped that series of books, read more than twenty books in a short period of time, researched on how to write and started writing once more.

Mercy – Of Gods and Men is my fourth attempt at writing a book and it is the best work that I have written to this date. I have reached here only because of all those attempts, because I learnt a whole deal lot from each and every book that I wrote. I am now truly proud of what I have achieved today. I have written a book that is due to be published in nine days and I have written a script for a short film that had all around positive reviews. I have certainly grown from that naive 12 year old boy who started writing books to prove his worth and I don’t intend on stopping here.