I was randomly thinking while bored this afternoon (Almost always a dangerous thing). I started thinking about books and getting back to play (remember that? I haven’t forgotten).
I was looking at the cover of a regency romance I was reading and thinking what was a fifty something 80s chick doing reading this? I like to read. In Milly’s circles I am known as a bookworm. Some of my best memories, both as a child and an adult, are being curled up with a book. The book did not have to be enlightening, good, well-written, or whatever. It was the words and letting the imagination run wild. It is PLAY!
Here’s the thing, I love to read. I usually have about two to six books going at any one time. I have read or tried to read ever since I can remember. I remember sitting with my Mom and Dad as one of them would read me a story. I would point at a word and say, “What?” Or “What word is that?” I love words. I love how when strung together they form ideas, thoughts and theories. Even the Bible speaks to the power of words. Words wound and words heal. This form of expression is precious.
My parents surrounded me in books. They subscribed to an encyclopedia set while I was still in diapers. The set was from the early 60s to the early 70s. I devoured them. I read about mythological beings and true fairy tales, not the cartoon scrubbed ones. Oh No! These were true horror stories, kids actually got eaten! Science and history leapt from the pages. Undersea and land adventures. Nancy Drew pulled me into the world of mysteries (still my favorite genre).
Then there was the Bible filled with the supernatural. No wonder I believed at such an early age. I don’t ever remember not knowing God. I don’t remember not knowing the stories of our God.
I read almost everything, non-fiction, mysteries, biographies, romance, suspense, self-help, magazines, blogs, websites, and some classics. Not too much horror or sci-fi but some (I don’t like paying to make myself scared when all I have to do is watch the news!).
I do have to be careful with some books, take 1984 for example. It scared me senseless. In fact books like 1984 make me very suspicious of all around me. It is not good for Milly to live a state of paranoia. My imagination carries me away.
It is no wonder I wanted to write. I have written a novel. I am so close to finishing the third draft I can hardly wait to see where it goes. I also scared witless. I know my book will not be a “classic.” First I don’t have the level of finesse needed. What you see is what you get. I don’t have a lot of hidden meaning. At least I don’t think so. If I mean it, that’s the way I write it. I also wrote a romantic suspense mystery sort of story. They can hit the best seller lists (my dream) but usually not considered deep classic material.
Here’s what I want from my book. I want readers to have fun, trigger the imagination, connect with the characters, enjoy the plot, and be a little inspired. I’m not sure if my stories will meet one or all of those goals for the readers. Maybe it is enough to have written it. I have nurtured this project and now I’m going to have to release it to see if it will fly. Just like my boys. It all ties into the stages of my life. Corny yes, but it really is like a metaphor of where I am today.
Now I have to figure out the next step then step out in faith. Hoo Boy! This is not easy and I’m nervous. I have no clue how to navigate the shark infested waters of publishing. There goes Milly’s imagination again. Sometimes play can be a little scary too.
I found my little sign last week…Eleanor Roosevelt – “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” This inspires me to do what I myself think I cannot do. It’s a challenge against my own negativity.
Positive Thoughts Ya’ll