I've been mentally and emotionally stomped. Not just in my writing, but in life altogether. Then I realized! I'm going about this all the wrong way. I've been waiting for something to happen, for cogs to begin to churn, for a fire to burn, for a light to go off. BUT! Nothing will ever happen that (as these last couple of months have shown). So I am firing up this steam boat on my own and creating my own personal fuel. If I believe in any ability I have been born with... I believe in my ability to tell a story.
And... I shall tell it.
I had completely my first chapter a while. I believe that is a good start, but it may change, which is what I had always expected it to do as I define the plot and zoom in my characters. But always starting from somewhere.
So today, is a huge day for research, getting my characters and settings together, and starting on the second chapter. So it is very likely there will be another entry posted tonight :)
I came across a letter I had written over a year ago and I thought I'd share it here:
Dear J. K. Rowling,
My name is Kimokeo Layton and I have read your books since I have been a young child attending middle school. When I was very young I hated to read and I hated literature. Although I wrote poetry at the time, I had never thought about writing prose. Fiction was something that only existed behind television screens and horror stories that were spoken over camp fires or bowls of candy for Halloween.
My brother had a collection of your books scattered about the floor around his bed, he never read them, just simply felt the need to keep them because he liked the movies. I remember getting my hair combed by my mother, and as she parted and greased the scalp between each chunk of hair Fox Family (which is now ABC Family) premiered the first ever Harry Potter movie and I was mesmerized, but it didn’t last too long because my mother was sitting there and she simply would not watch anything that had anything to do with wizards, wands, and most certainly not magic.
It only took those five minutes of that timeless movie for me to pick up one of those three books lazily strewn upon my brother’s bedroom floor; and after that book I picked up another, and then another until finally I had read the last sentence of the final and seventh book and I knew this was what I wanted to do. I wanted to be among this elite group of people who had possessed the ability to spawn a stream of words out of a desert of empty nothingness and these words would somehow jump into the lives of its readers. And I wanted that, I craved it, and you inspired that hunger within me because, for me, you created that world for me to live in, that void of infinite creativity that can spiral into a pool of genius.
At this moment, I think that when I am dead and gone and the weeds have grown over my tombstone I want to be remembered most for my art. To me that’s my legacy, my history, the one thing I could pass down from generation to generation and feel like I have contributed something. Through you I have realized my greatest goal in life, and through myself I wish to achieve it. And someday along the path of achieving this, I would like to sit down with you, possibly have a cup of tea, hopefully by then you would have read one of my publication and tell me that you were glad that you had inspired me in such a way.
Sincerely yours,
Kimokeo Layton
♥ Kimokeo :)
haha. ironic there was no new post written about a new chapter. except one three months later announcing your change in books :)
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