Phoenix
“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
-- Oscar Wilde
It was my 40th birthday on Friday the 13th of this month.
And while I am a little guilty of peering into the mirror and poking at my crows' feet, lifting the skin at the nape of my neck and wondering if insurance would cover the cost of plastic surgery, I heralded the occasion with a feeling of excitement. Like my board had been swiped clean by an invisible hand and it was time to write a few new equations on the inviting slate.
So here I am.
The day before my birthday, I handed in my first draft of my first book to be published this year. Just under the wire and by a sliver of a nosehair, I beat the clock on achieving one of my lifetime goals: becoming a published author by the time I turned 40.
This book is a work-for-hire deal; all trivia and research and no genuine molecules of Adams inspiration powering the thing. Not all was lost in writing it, though. Like a basic boot camp for book writing, I learned that writing a book is really not all that scary. Not much.
40,000 words and four weeks taught me a valuable lesson: if you sit down and just start typing, magical things will eventually happen. Not all the time, and not always in the way you expect it, but nonetheless, magic does appear.
And it is in those drops of suspended time and ego that you find the passion to find yourself again. Also, it helps to be inspired by someone else. In this case, please meet my inspiration, muse and virtual fantasy tour guide, Neil Gaiman.
I just recently discovered him through an article posted on the Absolute Write web site. Intrigued by the high praised heaped upon this person, I investigated and soon found myself completely smitten with the wordsmithery of this Englishman. More than that, I was completely blown away by the concepts of his writing: gently placing mythology into entertaining modern-day set stories.
My own background and love of mythology as well as my affection for writers from the Wales region of the world left me completely open and at the mercy of this writer. Such a smitten kitten, I am. I've even bought my first graphic novel due to my being under the influence.
A whole new world has opened up for me. If a gypsy had studied my palms and solemnly declared that I would be buying a glorified comic book -- and become thoroughly enraptured with it -- around my 40th birthday, I would have snorted in disgust and rolled my eyes, thinking of polite but firm ways to ask for my money back.
Yet here I sit, graphic novel to one side, the novel American Gods on the other. I type on my laptop at the bar in my kitchen, amid remants of children's homework; a sinkful of dishes across from me patiently waits for a proper end to their unclean condition; and two copywriting clients are awaiting word from me on their projects. The laundry is yet to be done, the bed to be made, and office to be cleaned...and it is 2:30 in the afternoon. I haven't even taken a shower yet.
But what I have is this: I have literally redefined myself. With the fervor of the newly baptised running through my veins, I have drawn up a well-parametered map of my literary career. What kind of author I will be, how much I will earn, what I will look like, etc. I've printed it out and have put it on my 'treasure map' board, a type of visual aid that will act as a guide toward reaching my goal.
All of this is very real to me, like a lingering aftertaste of sweet dessert.
I will be leading a double life for a while. So, while I draw the doors closed on my little writing business and begin placing resumes for administrative assistant positions, I will keep my newly found joi de vivre carefully positioned in a corner of my left brain, ruminating on the storylines in The Sandman, playing with the flame of passion that has suddenly flared again.
This resurgence of joy and awe that has welled up from in me while discovering the works of Neil Gaiman is a momentous, beautiful thing. An alighting of such indescribable intensity that I've not felt in a long, long time.
Indeed, it is good to be home.
posted by A.M.Adams @ 4/20/2007 01:13:00 PM
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