February 3, 2023 filed in Writing
It took me a long time to learn to read, so long that my parents were worried, the teachers were worried, I was worried! but then, suddenly, at the end of grade 4 I could read. I could not only read small words, but entire sentences, paragraphs, novels. I went from being illiterate to literate almost overnight. I still remember it, as if suddenly the world had come into focus. I read everything - poetry, road signs, novels, cereal boxes, short stories. My sister teased me that I wouldn't even notice if the house burned down because I'd have my nose in a book. Once they were no longer impossible to read, books made my confusing human existance make sense. I wanted to participate in that magic. I wanted to write words that would sooth, inspire, connect.
But many, many years past before I dedicated myself to learning, before I actually started to write and not just daydream about writing. About 5 years ago I started the novel that I'm working on now. I'd attempted to write one before that, but it really went nowhere. It is soooo hard to write a novel. It is actually just hard to write.