When I was in my early twenties I wanted to be a writer. I didn’t know if that was possible but there was nothing else I could think of.
I read Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind and Writing Down the Bones. I sat at cafes to muse and write which was easy for me because I was often between places. I was slightly lost, but happy enough. Before I started my dull job I caught the train early for cafe time. With a cappuccino, a journal and a black felt pen I found my happy place. I discovered the art of writing was being somewhere else where other things happened. Random noise, strangers and lounge music helped.
Sometimes we inherit our gifts and sometimes we just have to make it up along the way. I sit between these two worlds. I have watched for clues - a love of books (slight obsessive qualities) books piled high on tables, shelves, bedside, kitchen, dining room, bathrooms, all of it. Reading, listening, E-book options - there are no rules. As long as you enjoyed the book, you inhaled it, then all is well.
I have loved Audible because I can go back and listen again and again. I remember buying the compact disc for the book Under the Tuscan Sun and burning it onto the hard drive and then dropping it onto my I-Pod Nano so I could plant three roses and listen to Mayes’s story unfold. This kind of experience made me deeply happy. Now we spoilt, full stop.
A love of coffee table books, history books, fiction and non-fiction - enthusiastic purchasing, endless desire. Mostly feeling like books were introductions to a life I could possibly have. They say, you are what you read.
I discovered my voice on those coffee dates. They were just for me, alone and radiant, and full of promise. I could ajust my radar and get back time. No one cared and no one asked.
Many wonder if they can write, if they have a story to tell. The truth is, we all have something to offer. I like what Seth Godin said, something like - if you can speak you can write. Pretty simple. He also said, publishing is hard. That was a different conversation but it stayed with me.
My first spiritual book was The Road Less Traveled. I was nineteen. When I opened to the first chapter Peck said, life is difficult. I shut the book and thought, it really is. Someone had finally confirmed my suspicions. Books can do that.
Once you know all of this you are over the worst part. Accept the challenge. Your voice does matter. If you have lived you have the ingredients for a good book.
A Table in Paris, 2025 - Nothing has changed!
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