Well, it’s nice to take a break from the past few tireless hours of book editing. At the end of the day, does anyone even give a crap where the commas are? If the story is good, I don’t usually notice the editing, so I can’t imagine anyone else cares. While I love what I wrote, it definitely gets old after the third read through, especially on a screen, but printing 300 pages over and over again gets daunting! I have fallen into a place lately where it is almost getting too difficult to maintain the books I have written because too much is happening. While I don’t keep a journal, I view my books as a type of journal, where only the highlights get saved for posterity.
Does any one else remember when we were younger that journals used to come with little locks on the sides? They were insanely easy to pick, but as a kid I remember feeling so much security locking up my thoughts. It seems so strange to me to now be willingly allowing others to read my thoughts. It is liberating in a way, to have turned those stories and feelings into something I feel proud enough of to share with the world….or at least the few people who have taken the time so far to read.
There is something about writing that feels so insanely personal and private. Reading memoirs, biographies, or even Wikipedia pages about other people’s lives seems somewhat invasive to me. Reading everyone’s personal thoughts on this blog even, feels personal to me. While it might not be the most scandalous thoughts, even reading peoples own insecurities about their writing is personal. It is liberating in a way though, to just share what you want to. Writing, or at least the writing that you allow others to see, allows you to become whoever you want, which allows you to live within the world you create. It is a big responsibility in a way, to be the one making that world, but that’s why I love it.