Frogs

I wrote my first novel almost two years ago during NaNoWriMo. The novel is titled "Kissing Frogs" and it's sitting on my desk, staring at me. There are some days when it croaks loudly at me and begs to be handled. Other days, it is content to just lay there in it's cool, dark hiding place.

I feel two things when I look at it: 1) proud of myself for FINALLY following through and writing a complete novel, and 2) a strange mix of anxiety, fear and sadness.

The first feeling probably makes sense to most people; the second one may not. The anxiety stems from the overwhelmingly daunting task of editing and revising. I know that there is a lot of correcting that needs to be done. Hell, I don't even have it broken down into chapters, that's how rough the draft is. Hemingway said that the first draft of anything is shit. If that's the case, mine is more like diarrhea. No, really, it's that bad and stinky.

My logical mind knows that it's a rough draft and that I shouldn't expect it to be perfect. I'm afraid that even after I've done some revising, it still won't be good enough for people outside of my special inner circle to read.

When I see "Frogs" sitting in front of me, I feel sad. It's my first novel (unless you count the one I wrote long-hand in a 200 page Mead notebook when I was a kid). It's special and I'm sentimentally attached. There may be other novels and stories in me but none will ever replace the feeling I had when I finished "Frogs." And I know that I will miss that feeling.

Maybe with some love, "Frogs" will magically turn into a gorgeous hunk of writing and we will live happily ever after in Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com. A girl can dream, can't she?

Smiling on the inside,

~Valeka

Reading Books

Lately, I have become so obsessed with reading (I'm convinced it helps me to be a better writer) that I have books all over my home. They have taken over my nightstand, the ottoman in the living room, my coffee table, and part of my closet. In fact, I have so many new books that I can probably read three new books a month until the end of the year and not leave home to buy a new one! That's a lot.

I come from a long line of avid readers. My father always has a stack of book next to his bed that he reads from each night. My Nana used to tell me that reading was exercise for the brain and that it was important to do it as often as possible (and grandmas know best). When I was a kid, my parents read bedtime stories to my brother and I every night. During summer vacation, my mother would take us kids to the public library for the summer reading program where, if we read 12 books during the summer, we got a certificate and a medal. My competitive nature coveted the medal and wanted to beat my brother to finish my 12 books first.

I was NEVER content to read the "kids" books. No, I would migrate to the opposite side of the library where I found a book by some guy named Poe with the title "Eight Tales of Terror." How could I possibly pass up reading a book with a title like that? "The Fall of the House of Usher" and "The Masque of the Red Death" inspired me and I soon moved on to this other book because the cover grabbed me...

Looking back, it was probably the creepy kid and the hotel (I thought it was a mansion like the one in "House of Usher") on the cover that reeled me in. This book happens to be on my nightstand again, for the fourth time.

Shortly after, I read this skinny little book called "Old Man and the Sea" because I thought I could breeze through it based on it's size. Being ten years old, I thought the book was just about a man talking to himself while sitting in a boat and trying to catch a big fish. I was too young to grasp all of the nuances of the story and the symbolism but something about it grabbed me and has never let go (this began my almost lifelong love of Hemingway).

Reading outside of my comfort zone taught me so much. I learned larger words (because if I didn't know what they meant, I looked them up in this ancient thing called a 'dictionary'), sentence structure, how to build suspense in a story, and how to create characters that were relatable. Most of all, I learned what good writing was all about.   

Books have they ability to transport us to places that we never dreamed possible. Reading helps us to explore different worlds and to understand humanity better. And when a book is really good, it helps us learn more about ourselves. In the words of one of my favorite authors, Stephen King, "books are a uniquely portable magic." So true!