As far back as I can remember, I have loved stories, both telling stories and being told them. I wrote my first poem when I was nine, and although it was quite terrible, my parents made a big fuss over me and gifted me a little notebook in which I could record all my poetic impressions. I still have it.
My favourite subject through school was English Composition. I loved following my imagination wherever it took me. All it took to get going was a new topic, or the seed of an idea, or just the prospect of being able to write about anything at all. I read more than I could, begging for extra books in the school library.
By the time I got to St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai to study English Literature, I didn’t have to beg for books any more – I couldn’t read fast enough. So many greats out there and so little time.
Fresh out of college, I dithered for the first time. Did I have what it takes to be a writer? I didn’t know. So I decided to take a Master’s degree in Journalism from Northwestern University in Chicago. I worked with Outlook in Mumbai and The Japan Times in Tokyo. Real life, I thought, would give me many stories. It did – but then I discovered that some of our dearest stories are born in our imagination.
And then one day, I decided to write. Really write. Write what I want. And tell the stories I want to tell. It was not enough to dream of writing any more. So I wrote Wisha Wozzariter. And when Wisha stopped wishing and started writing, I did, too.
I am finally living my dream of being an author. My newest book “Horrid High” will be available in bookstores in mid-September 2014. It’s a perfectly horrid adventure in the world’s most horrid school. Happy horrid reading!