Another week has rolled around. I'm rewriting a novel right now. The rewrite is going well -- I think. I like my books, but I find that everything I write is hopelessly flawed -- a little like the writer. My storytelling is flawed with my own way of thinking. I always circle around ideas until I finally find a place to land. My deepest hope is my words will bring my readers to what I meant to say. I find that when communicating with others misunderstandings abound. I'm going to continue to stumble foward and hopefully find my way through the maze to connection.
I saw a good movie this week, Neverwas, and I wanted to give it a plug. I loved Neverwas. Great actors: Aaron Eckhart (his mom is a children's book author in real life), Nick Nolte, Ian McKellan, Wiliam Hurt, Alan Cumming -- lots of strong performances. The story was intimate -- about a man coming to understand the love of his mentally ill father. The father committed suicide when the son was a child. I might have connected with movie more than most because I'm a children's writer and because a few people I have loved have taken their own lives. If you watch the movie you'll get the harmonic there. This is a real gem. Look for it.
I read a reissued book by Eva Ibbotson this week that just shocked me. It's called A Countess Under the Stairs. I love it when a writer takes my breath away with the beauty of language, the life she breathed into what would be formulatic fiction in anyone else hands, her take on a time in history that few seem to explore. Eva is slowly making her way on to my all time favorite author's list.
So now a for some inspiration to help keep keep you on the path.
All from Ursula K. LeGuin:
"My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.”
“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end”
“The important thing is not the finding, it is the seeking, it is the devotion with which one spins the wheel of prayer and scripture, discovering the truth little by little. If this machine gave you the truth immediately, you would not recognize it,”
“comfort was allowed to come to them rare, welcome, unsought: a gift like joy."