For there are other worries but writing worries me the most. Unfortunately, it is the act of writing that makes me the happiest Next comes my baby girl, then cats and then there are other happinesses of life.
I really am a a closed book, not an introvert mind you. I can talk for hours but can rarely talk about myself, me and my work. Hence, I can never really talk about writing.
However, there are friends who know, and that is another trouble. Since I am an avid fan of fantasy fiction and YA fiction, describing what I write is a little less exciting. Like the other day in my attempt to explain what I am writing about, I explained that it is about a terribly left out witch, who is almost always rather sad. The response was a lot of questions, the most potent of it was, ‘what is there to write about a sad witch?’
There, my friends I get stumped. True enough, what is there to write about a sad witch who lives at the most lonesome corner of the world.
The thing is, after all time I spent on building her up, she is now, to me at least a real character, whose sadness is as real to me, as the zit that appeared on my forehead this morning (need to stop using that facepack), therefore, there is just so much to write about her, so much to explain why she was sad, why she should be happy, how should she find that happiness?
I do not know who is tugging whom here, the witch urging me to find out how she finally reaches that happiness, or me tugging her, convincing her that there is sunshine beyond the clouds.
But we will get there. 🙂