.:Dreams and Swords:.

The Good Ones

I am a reader.

I've been a reader for as long as I could understand the letters on the pages, and even then, I would make up stories to go along with the words just to feel apart of the scheme. It took a while for me realize I was a storyteller as well. The tall tales in my head were for fun. The magical creatures and odd events were a chance to escape the chaos around me, to have something that was truly understandable, a way for me to keep my innocence even though I had no notion of what the word meant.

Then, one day, my little niece asked for a story. Not one from a book but from your noggin, she said as she tapped her forehead against mine with a toothy grin. I was flabbergasted at first. I didn't know any kids stories. I read mythology, fantasy novels, and detective stories -- much too bloody for a girl of four. But as my niece stared at me with anticipation, I knew I had to tell her something, and with that will and her smile the words came tumbling out. By the end of it, she was thrilled, I was stunned, and my mother simply looked at me with an expression that said "of course, didn't you know that?". 

Tinkering with writing came after a bad bout of pneumonia that kept me from doing everything else. The words built up through the frustration and tiredness and need until it split out of me like that day with my niece. It was a flood gate bursting open. Like the overflow of water the ideas haven't stopped trickling in.

I don't know whether to be thankful or not.

But the mountains of ideas doesn't amount to being a great writer. I'm alright. I get the occasional good static from time to time, but its nothing to write home about. And being apart of a writing community like WDC, you can immediately tell how high your caliber of writing really is. Being surrounded by them, interacting with them, reading and absorbing the excellent work... I'm just happy to be a sponge and experience the magic.

They are the Good Ones. The ones you go back and read again and again. Their words are brilliant pieces to a shredded picture that once collected creates a masterpiece. You read their work and can not help being in awe of them. They make you feel whether good, bad or horrific. When the words off the page make you forget yourself completely you know you're in sphere of a Good One.

I mention all of this to talk about a new author I have added to the List. The book was mandatory reading for one of my college courses, but I couldn't help but get trapped in her words. She writes with a brush to paint a picture so vivid you want to reach out and touch. It is her experiences come to life, jumping off the page in your face. 

The book is Bone Black by bell hooks. 

Read it and you'll get what I mean.