An Epilogue to ‘Liberty’

WRITING is a solitary undertaking. It can always be akin to a striptease activity harboring towards the naked exposure wherein the pole becomes a limp and useless thing at the climax of the show. Your readers are bound to make certain assumptions about you as you put your soul out there in order to drive a point home. If you are committed to writing at an intense level, sometimes you even reveal your deepest ideals, especially when dealing with something that eats away at you and personally you feel next to no one as you brave a step into the forbidden alleyway to confront the so called Elephant in the room head on. Your readers might just have it in their head that they know you. Do they? Rare are those moments when someone will read your work, feel a connection and seek you in the public square to proudly announce that they heard your gospel and that it spoke to them. It is a sham if a writer pretends to hold on to certain ideals while falsely misleading his readers simply because he wants to score a crowd. Readers read between the words.

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