What’s in a book?
A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.
Edward P. Morgan
So much has happened this past few weeks I feel giddy with both excitement and fear. At the beginning of the month, I finally jumped into the cold water of my fears and registered myself to NaNoWriMo. It’s about writing a novel or at least trying to, in 30 days. This whole experience I already know now, will be without a doubt in my mind, a turning point in my creative life.
That little action of mine started a ripple effect of sorts. I finally got to begin writing my “novel”. The one I always had in my heart, buried so deeply within, it almost got forgotten amongst the other abandoned dreams I had. Getting to finally write the first few pages of this book was very scary. Like a stranger visiting a foreign country for the first time, I felt out of place. I did not know the language, or the culture and did not understand much of anything. Soon enough this veil of uneasiness began to lift up and I felt the magic. The characters in my story were taken me by the hand showing me where we needed to go. I just had to forget about trying to control what was going to happen.
About the time I started writing, Brian Miller from waystationone
give me three books titles he thought could be helping me with this writing process of mine. All three books being very popular, it took a bit of time to arrive at my public library. Last week I finally got two of them and started to read right away.
Low and behold this one of is from Stephen King. Back in France, as a young adult I used to read a lot of his books (translated). I remembered how I loved this particular talent of his, to get me scared to the bones just by the way he wrote. He always seemed to know all of my fears and I really enjoyed being terrified when turning the pages of his books. I stopped reading him shortly after being a mother. I could not stand being that scared anymore. Then I stopped reading in French altogether and never went back to reading any of his books in English.
Fast forward 16 years and here I am reading a Stephen King book on writing and loving all of it. I smile knowing that not matter what eventually happens with my writing I am doing it because I love it, and because now that I have started I can not imagine any other way. I am understanding something else too. Those words I have in me are supposed to get out. Whether someone else will want to read them is something I can not worry about now. If it happens it will be in it’s own time and I am in no hurry 🙂
Cross-posted over at Vision and Verb where a collaborative group of like-minded women from all over the world share their passion for photography and the written word.