Picture a little girl in glasses and braids
A little starched dress, at the end of the corridor
She’s holding to the wall, waiting for the bell to ring
Praying for the day to end
Forcing herself to go back to her class again
Hearing her mother’s words: Put your faith in BOOKS. ~ Fame, The Musical
Dragons like to be read to.
I have discovered this over the years. There are two things that calm the hissing voices in the shadows of the world: music, and the written word.
I know many people who don’t read, some of the very closest people to me don’t read. I sometimes wonder if my ability to fall into a story comes from growing up an only child; since there weren’t even any other kids on my block I learned pretty quickly to find friends in pages instead of the real world. That was something my mother always felt badly about, but something I’ve always thanked her for. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have my paper escape.
This comes to mind now because – with the increased work hours (which granted are only for this cruise and which I did take on voluntarily, more the fool I) I find I have little time to escape anywhere else. I find that at the moment I’m not able to give much energy to the dance floor, my eyes are too tired to sew and my mind doesn’t want to focus on television, but somehow, I can still focus on the fine print of a novel. So I read. A Lot.
I’ve often wondered if the reason I read so much is to see the world as I would like it to be; not so much in the ‘love conquers all’ fairy tale sense, that would be foolish, but in the sense of some things still existing that just don’t seem to in the so called ‘real’ world, like chivalry and restraint and…I don’t know, sometimes I think characters in books have more passion for life than real people. Perhaps that’s why I model so much of my own attitude on theirs.
Also, it’s because I read so much that I can write. A lot of people don’t really understand that. Though there is a factor in the whole writing thing that is completely beyond my control, one of my favourite fantasy author’s is quoted as saying that he found out at a young age that he was a writer
Notice I didn’t want to say I decided I want to be a writer. I was a writer. If you are a writer you will write, whether you want to or not.
So there’s that. But a lot of the reason I am able to channel words so well is because I’ve been taught by so many greats who went before me. I’ve visited Manderlay, Wonderland (a truly disturbing place, one must wonder what Caroll was thinking), Thistleswait Manor, Never (Never) Land, the South of France, the hills of Tuscany (long before I set foot there), and I think I’m a permanent resident at Thornfield Hall. And these days of course, Winterfell, King’s Landing, Moorea and whatever other far distant other worlds I can get my hands on. At the moment I’m ensconced somewhere in a version of the holy land that drips incense and intrigue more than it does sacred thoughts.
When I was growing up my mum used to say I reminded her of A Little Princess’ Sara Crew – always looking for new books to gobble; if I did something wrong the punishment was never taking away my television time, or my computer (I didn’t even know what a computer was back then) it was cutting my reading time. Whatever it was I’d done, I learned never to do it again quickly.
The thing is, the friends you make in books never let you down. They’re always, always, there at the end of a long day, waiting to see you through, they don’t disappear, they don’t break, and they don’t ever leave you behind or forget about you. A book will never leave you behind for a better option. And that’s not a statement to or against anyone in particular (because I know I run the risk of some people taking it that way), it’s just something I’ve learned over the years, and I think perhaps it explains a lot about me in the long run…
Put your faith in books, that’ll protect you
Put your faith in books, and a mind of your own
Neither charm nor looks
Will make them respect you
You must learn to stand alone…