Quote for the day: “There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are.” — Somerset Maugham.
First song I heard today: Bells of Freedom, Bon Jovi.
I have just read a fellow blogger’s account on what the turning point was for her; when she realized she wanted to be a writer.
I tried to remember when my own turning point happened. Not so easy … Some people can remember things from their past with absolute clarity. Like my sister; she can tell me about conversations we had as children that I have no recollection of. Or what we did on a specific day, where we went for holiday, teachers’ names, things like that. But not me – probably because I was living in a world created by my own imagination.
This must mean that I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I was always in my own mind, making up little stories and having conversations with imaginary people. (Okay, no need to phone those straightjacket people.) This didn’t help my grades or popularity with teachers, but it kept me entertained.
However, if I had to pinpoint a specific time in space, that proverbial ton o’ bricks on the head moment, it would be the day I finished reading Terry Brooks’ Armageddon’s Children. Urban fantasy is my thing and this book personified everything I love about books, reading, fantasy and a whole lot of other things. I knew that I had to try, because if I didn’t, I’d always have that “what if?” question lurking in the back of my mind.
So that is why I sit in front of the laptop, sometimes gnawing away at its corner in a fury of frustration, sometimes on the point of flinging it through the window like a Frisbee, but always keeping my ass in the chair (thanks Anne Lamott!).
What makes the struggle worth it is that moment, when I read over what I’ve written and a little voice whispers in my ear, “Celia, this actually doesn’t suck.”
That makes me very, very happy.