Sunday, September 9, 2012

The Journey - All the Pages in Between

I've often been asked, "How did you come up with the idea for your novel?" Well, I've commented here in the past about my interests in Greek mythology and comics, two tremendous interests of mine that merged. What it comes down to is wanting to tell a story. Being a reader for as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to share my loves with others. I don't think anyone really knows when he or she decides to write whether there's an audience out there. Most of us write at first because we just want to put onto paper the ideas floating around in our head, to make sense of the random bits and pieces of narration. That raw language that makes it onto paper, or computer screen, doesn't stay raw for long, and through much editing, soul-searching, and even some tears, writers bring forth the polished pieces that bring them the most pride.

I fell in love with my novel when it was in its infancy, I think. Just like parents bond with newborns, writers hold fast to their tales, never wanting them to leave their sight or their touch. I had months when I was an over-protective parent, and then I had months when I needed to leave it all alone. Like a teenager, it challenges us, pushes our buttons, and even makes us angry, especially when we don't know what to do with it. 

The thoughts and ramblings that coalesced into the novel came about through great emotional upheaval. How do you write the end of a novel when you want it to be a mystery even to you? I mean, doesn't every reader want to be surprised by the ending of a novel? Isn't it that anticipation that keeps us reading? It took years for me to find my path, the path to the last page. Once I knew where the story was going, at least in the first book, I actually felt a sense of relief. I had an end point. I had a "point B" for my "point A," and it actually made me cry. It was at that point I knew my story would have to end.

Now, I have a "point C" and "D" and so much more to write. Ideas now flow like a river unrestrained, sometimes like raging rapids. The process of creation never truly ends, and even the last page of one novel is simply the first page of the future.

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