My book,
The Sum of all Parts, is available to buy. It's real. There are pages, a cover,
an ISBN. It's available online, in shops. How did that happen? How did these
tattered pages, covered in my almost illegible scrawl, become that magical
thing we call a book?
Let's start at the beginning. Well almost at the
beginning. I was a precocious reader as a child and harboured a dream from a
very early age to be a Writer - my first foray into authorship was age 8, I
typed up a fantasy story about a dragon called Draco on a very archaic
typewriter - and I have always been observant. I watch life around me keenly,
taking notes of scenarios, personalities, characteristics, dialects, turns of
phrases, landscapes, interesting words - the list is endless - and I mentally
file them away for possible future use. Although when it comes to interesting
words I write these down in my own personal dictionary. I may write the words
down in my dictionary, but I'm not so sure it's me that does the observing and
the filing. She is somehow separate, apart. I imagine her as a version of me
that sits somewhere above my left eye, quiet yet somehow malevolent - who knows
what she will do with the information she has gathered?
So this is how The Sum of all Parts came about:
observations, notes, ideas, all fermenting until they became a story that I -
we? - felt was worth the telling. I started writing it - or rather collecting
the ideas and mulling them over in my head - well over ten years ago, only
putting pen to paper in the last five or so. Once the pen connected with the
page it grew, transforming into something quite different than I had initially
imagined. It did so almost without my knowledge - that other me is, as I have
said rather malevolent, taking over and forcing me to take her place as
observer. I watched, she wrote. As soon as I put pen to paper - my first few
drafts are always written the old-fashioned way -it's as if I am no longer
fully in control, only regaining the upper hand when it comes to polishing and
refining what has initially been written. This other me has taken over, writing
the first draft in a frenzy, afraid that if she stops all will be lost,
forgotten. This initial draft is a physical outpouring, and if you asked me why
I write - whichever me that is of course - I think the most honest answer that
I could give is because I have to. I have a diseased propensity for writing. An
itch for authorship.
This writing bug I have caught is just that - a bug,
an illness. As a child I can remember being unwell, kneeling by the toilet
retching, my Mother gently smoothing my hair out of the way. "Better out
than in" she soothes. And so it is with writing. Better out than in. If I
don't put pen to paper or fingers to a keyboard these thoughts and ideas might
just consume me. I have a word vomit bug if you will.
So now I anxiously await to see what reception The
Sum of all Parts will receive. This creature that grew from my imagination has
now been released. I have to admit I am nervous. Will it be liked? Will the
readers - assuming it has any - be kind? I feel like a mother whose adult child
has just left home, I want to brag and gloat about his achievements, I want to
push him to achieve further, I want to advise and cosset. It's what I have to
do for my book, but it's a hard task. You see that book is finished. I
completed it well over a year ago and the other me, she who reigns above my
left eye has set her sights on a new story that needs to be told. The Sum of
all Parts is on its own now. It will succeed or fail, be liked or disliked.
It's out of my hands and up to the Readers now. As for me, there's a mewling
baby in the background and an itch that needs scratching. Words need to be put
to paper and if I do not give this new-born my attention and guidance she may
well scream the house down.
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