Friday, November 18, 2005


The rewrite is popping today, so I'm treating myself to some blog time.

My book has a life of its own. I, apparently, am now only around for the ride. I talked to my sister about this. It's like a book is its own thing. When I step back and look at it, its not me. It's the book, like it has an internal intelligence that is not a part of me. I feel this satisfaction within, but also an awe of a power within the human spirit to create something that is wholly outside of itself.

Are books alive? They feel that way to me. My hope is my story will resonate with others. I've let my words go and they have become a kind of truth. I hope they have a chance to slip inside of others and give them what so many books have given me. Friends, companionship, entertainment, questions.

Now randomly:

I think I missed my calling in life. I was supposed to be a librarian. I think librarians have the coolest job in the universe. I mean, they read children's books and then put them into the hands of children. I just think its cool to spend your life on the inside of the action of information.

I love the A&E Horatio Hornblower series. I don't have massive cable so I'm always years behind the times when it comes to TV. It just makes me want to cheer when I watch Horatio. It appeals to the simple things in me. I like the romantic view of the world. Truth and honor have brought me far. Sailing ships are just hot! Hip, hip, hooray! We could use a lot more of this in the world.

An old Weavers song is bumping around in my head again:

Last night I had the strangest dream
I'd ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war

When I was girl, I loved the Weavers, the Kingston Trio and Jimmy Rodgers among others . I had one of those plastic-cased record players. I'd sit and listen to their records for hours. All of their music is in me, speaking to me.

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