Anitha Krishnan writes Indian-inspired fantasy fiction with a dash of mysticism and soul-searching. She lives in Burlington, Ontario with her husband and their cherished child.
life, unadulterated
There it was again. That feeling. Despondency. Desperation. That feeling of being 'stuck' in the same place for far too long. That need to run away. That temptation to burn up that sensation in smoke, or stuff it down with chocolate, or fall into some fantasyland on Netflix
life, unadulterated
I struggle with being a mother and a writer at the same time. When D is at home, I find it impossible to get any writing done. When he is at home, I want to spend time with him. But after a few hours of being with him, something starts
life, unadulterated
This past month has been difficult. We've all been in some state of lockdown for so long now that I assumed I had gotten used to it, more or less, that I had figured out a way to cope with it and make the most of it. I
on writing
At exactly 12:08 PM this afternoon, I wrote these words 'The End' on my WIP. My second book but my first ever novel! A tome of about 135,000 words. I treated myself to a nice long walk in the snow and a long soak in a
life, unadulterated
I have only one word to describe this past week: Rich. Rich in terms of learning and understanding. I spent several nights reading The Broken Circle: A Memoir of Escaping Afghanistan [https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42945699-the-broken-circle] written by Enjeela Ahmadi-Miller. She recounts her family&
on writing
Sometime last week, a trip to the optometrist finally laid to rest all the questions I had had these past several months (since March actually, since the beginning of the pandemic lockdown here) about the incessant headaches and phases of blurry vision I'd been having. Armed with a
on writing
I missed posting an update last Sunday, not because I didn't remember to but because I couldn't bear to look at my laptop screen any more than I already had that week. My feelings this past fortnight have ranged from complete elation to utter dejection and
on writing
I started work on my current WIP in January 2019. I jotted down ideas in general along with a plot outline and even wrote a bit I suppose, until a phone call from a family member in February completely derailed me and took me away from the WIP for several
on writing
I turned forty two weeks ago. My birthday itself was a pleasant occasion and I celebrated it with my husband and four-year-old and cake. Wishes poured in from family overseas, and I remember feeling loved and content in the moment. But in the weeks leading up to my
life, unadulterated
Another year has passed. Another decade. A good four decades, in fact. And I am already loving it here. All the roads unfurl ahead of me. It's as if I have only just begun.
life, unadulterated
My little one is at school, his second full day of school, and I miss him so much. I miss him with an ache, an anguish. I just can't stop crying. Yesterday, I was filled with a strange kind of restless energy, worrying about how D would be
life, unadulterated
If I had to pick a theme to paint my life with, it would have to be 'nostalgia'. Or 'grief for the past'. For everything new that comes my way, I tend to grieve all that I've had to leave behind. Perhaps this is