Alone, I am nothing. I am made up of little pieces of the world. Bits of many people and places.
When I was very little I lived in Burma and there was a small bridge not far from my house where I used to go play. The whole world lived under that bridge and I controlled it. I observed and reigned. I never dared step in to that world, though. It was too dangerous. I stayed on the outside with my nanny protecting me.
Writing a book is a gargantuan task. It is one of the scariest things in the world. Not only is there the fear of failure — “even if I do finish it, will anybody want to read it?”…. but, there is also the fear of losing a part of yourself. Every writer must give a piece of themselves, a part of their soul.
Will it be enough? Is it noteworthy? Why is it necessary? Somebody I know once told me it is a form of immortality. All humans strive for immortality and writing is the way to achieve it. Maybe. But is that why we do it? Really?
It might be a way to sort out all the things that get jumbled up in your brain. People imagine stories and can’t stop thinking about them, or they have very intense experiences that need to be defused. Maybe it is a form of therapy. Maybe it is just a whim.
The only thing I ever really wanted to do was to write a book. But I thought I would never be able to do it. I was not a good writer. I didn’t have any writing training. I was sure to fail. And yet, I started writing a journal just for myself. I kept all my stories in my journal. I rewrote them. I expanded on them. I wrote them again. I read more books. And then I decided, I would write my book.
Eighteen years ago I wrote my first draft. Ha! I read an article recently on how the more revisions you have the more you are apt to succeed. I think I must have the most revisions ever. This book and I have grown up together. I have made peace with many things. I have cried over many things. I have been touched by many things. I have learned many things. And I have let go of many things. It has grown and shrunk. And I could probably go on revising it for many years to come. But I will not. It is done.
I am a Leo and August is my month. Watch this space.