We went to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince today and I was once again reminded of why I write. Particularly why I’m writing the young adult book right now. There is something fundamentally child-like about fiction writers. There is a part of us that doesn’t want to grow up, which is why we choose to live in the world of imagination.
The world of imagination is a world we can control (for the most part *g*), unlike the real world. We can make it look like anything we want. Build castles in the sky. Make dragons talk. Characters can behave in ways we can only dream of. They are our golems. For we are the weavers of words, the spinners of dreams. We conjure fantasy. And make you believe.
Our prose may not always paint the pictures we see in our minds–no matter how hard we try to get the words onto paper. Most mental pictures are as elusive as catching smoke with teardrops. That is the challenge of living a dream, of being a fiction writer. When I see movies like Harry Potter, I am reminded why I chose to travel this solitary road and why I must continue walking without concern for my ultimate destination. For it is the landscape I pass, the characters I meet that make up the real journey, the true writer’s journey. And if I can close my eyes for one last time on this planet knowing that I’ve reached people, touched their lives, showed them worlds they never knew existed, then I have succeeded beyond my wildest imagination. And that’s saying something.