Last week I mentioned to an acquaintance that I write books. Her comment was, “I wanted to do that too, and I wrote 16 pages, but then my boyfriend did something with my computer and I lost it all.” This reminded me of all the comments I’ve heard from those that have the desire to write, but…
Less than two years ago, I was sitting in the kitchen of my husband’s family in Slovenia and for a good 15 minutes Ed tried to explain my “writing books” to them. I even picked up a book and made the hand motions of writing, across this book. Ed finally gave up and later told me he wasn’t sure they understand that books are written by people. 🙂 Which was sort of funny because there were lots of books in the house by authors I have read, and some I’ve met, translated into their language.
There’s a flurry of new books and blogs and advice on how to be a successful writer. Then there’s information about the business of publishing. But every library and bookstore, every newspaper and reality show, every agent, editor, and marketing professional around the globe shares one common denominator. Their careers depend on the people that sit in the chair and put their fingers on the keyboard, and tell stories. Whether fact or fiction, graphic or literary, the world of story is universal in all cultures.
I’ve only recently begun to see the universal grandeur of story. It’s rather humbling! But it’s also made me happy. Because I am one of those that has written, all my life. I’m also one of those who writes daily. Now I am settling into the rhythm of writing. The coming to my desk daily with a time frame and an objective to a story.
I’ve done this in the past, the “this is my writing time” decree to all within hearing. It was, because it was my passion, but it was also when I could squeeze in time to stay true to my soul. It’s different now. There are numbers of pages to complete every day. There are “do not disturb” hours. I am creating the rhythm of connecting to my stories.
It’s scary and comforting at the same time.