Tuesday, September 6, 2011
(Pardon the interruption, here is the rest of Sunday's Post. It seems even less trivial than when I wrote it, but there doesn't seem to be any reason to send it back where it came from, so enjoy, and have a terrific week, Quinn)
A reader contacted me this past week, he manages properties for The Boyer Co. and one in particular that my company maintains, and before getting to his business concern, he blurted out, "I read your book! Man! ...you made me cry, ...twice!" I had to chuckle to myself, enjoying thoroughly his every word as he continued on for another five minutes about his reading experience. I love that my readers are getting me, and that Search For Yesterday is more than just a "fun" read for most. When I first realized that I really could write a whole book, I placed my aim to a point higher than the majority of books I've read through the years, hoping more than anything else to find a way to transfer real feelings in attempting to tell a story. I knew immediately just the places that had touched him, but was encouraged as he recounted other parts where his emotions were touched in other ways prompting him to want to tell me about it. I know the places of which he spoke, because while writing them, I found myself choking back tears, I felt the stinging ache in my throat and chest as my heart broke reliving with my characters the hurt of a sometimes insensitive world.
A couple of weeks ago, a close friend called me to tell me of the passing of his friend and room mate. Having lost his wife and child because of personal mistakes, he finally arrived at a point where despair became his motivate and once alone in the house, took his own life. I've thought a lot on the whys, and conditions that might together add up to something so seemingly hopeless as to make one feel life wasn't worth living anymore. Several of my close friends have found themselves in a similar spot and lost their battle with reason, and all I can think is how I wish I'd have done more, been more, tried harder to lighten their burden. In each instance, however, as I've wallowed in my own sense of guilt for not being enough of a friend to recognize and help, I've always come to the eventual realization that God is over all and his love is sufficient to heal even the most broken heart.
I'm not sure why I'm writing about this, I guess it's just one of the random things on my mind this morning, but I do think that people need constant avenues of escape from harsh reality, which often becomes unbearable. Perhaps through my, and other's writings, such despairing people may find relief from their sufferings long enough to gain enough perspective to fight another day.
I read an article yesterday written about making a living writing fictional novels. I wish I hadn't read it, because it as all about methodology of writing in such a way to take advantage of a particular audience's emotional need in order to become a best seller. I feel almost dirty after learning how reading for many is addictive and indulgent, and that like a drug, if crafted and contrived correctly, my books could become their fix. I'd be lying by saying I don't want to sell millions of books, but the grayed moral area of which I am referring isn't a place I ever want to be. God help me if my motives change with success or because of my seeking it.
In saying that, I in no way mean to condemn other writers who might follow this or another formula for success, I'm just saying that my personal objective in writing is to provide a reading experience that compels by virtue of pure motive rather than stratagem alone.
Wow! Now I'm having a personal dilemma as to whether or not I should hit the backspace button and take that back so as not to unintentionally offend, but I think I won't. To say that all writing must come to be without thought, form, methodology, strategy, or enticing, flattering and captivating words and structure, would be ridiculous. I along with countless others toil over not just pages and paragraphs, but sentences and words, to find just the right touch, to create just enough magic to awaken the senses of our readers, enticing them to leave their own world and join ours. I have read authors though, who seem after realizing their success, to get tired and begin losing interest in their craft in order to pump out their next money maker, and I personally hope to never be thought guilty of that.