I managed to keep myself so busy this morning that I badly needed a nap by one… and I got one. Baking cookies and brownies and making a double batch of warshonka kept me from worrying about what happens tomorrow… mostly.
I also started my yearly reading of my favorite book- A Prayer For Owen Meany. It is the only book I have ever read that still has the power to make me laugh and cry. From the scattered narrative of a perpetual witness to the coming of ageness of it, to the deeper themes of magic and faith… it never gets old to me.
Because, of course, the other thoughts on my mind have to do with my own little tale, being set adrift come midnight.
Will it make people laugh? Or cry? Will people see the characters as I meant to draw them, filled with love and as real as they are to me?
Please don’t let them read it and shrug and toss it aside.
And when they come to the end, oh please let there be the reaction that there should be.
And then, please let them pass it on, and on, and on. I’m not John Irving; I don’t deserve to be read each year, but please let someone see in the story something real and something they want to share.
That’s what I want for this book, for all my books. I don’t care if I’m a bestseller, I don’t want to be sold.
I want to be read.
Curiouser and Curiouser 