Tuesday evening saw the launch of Dark City Books’ new mystery anthology, Spokane is Still Deader Than Dead. The book is published by a local house with the stories written by local writers, and set in and around Spokane, Washington. I have a story in the book so I toddled downtown to Auntie’s Bookstore (a good-sized independent) for a reading. There I joined seven of the other writers and we each spoke a couple minutes before reading a passage from our stories.
Some people, as you may guess, are good readers, others not so much. I was surprised to discover a former city attorney actually made me uncomfortable. Another was so good she read her entire story using a heavy southern accent because that’s how she heard the story in her head. She was great!
But what really struck me about this little party was the enthusiasm everyone shared. Most everyone is working on a novel. One, a former policeman, says he has two in first draft stage stuck in a drawer until he feels confident enough to work further. He’s starting small, he says, and enjoys the short story form.
The editor/publisher introduced each of us with a short bio that had to do with the dreams we see/hear in our heads as we write, which I thought a rather innovative intro. What he said got me thinking. He says we’re all weird, and he may be right.
Right, anyway, if the euphoria of capturing the visions in our heads is maybe THE most important part of our lives. Well, maybe not placed above family, but with me it’s neck-and-neck. I consider myself a writer, but I don’t have the words to describe how the creation of a story makes me feel. Whether set in a place I know, or in one only of my imagination, which I then populate with characters I give life to, giving birth to a story is a total rush. I get to include minutiae to flesh these characters out, give them emotion to feel, make them happy or sad or raging, let them love, put them in danger, and occasionally kill them off.
That makes me a Goddess, folks. There’s just nothing like creating a book.