Creative Writing,  My Writing

Not Quite an Essay 3

Hi, Hey, Hello!

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these (October 2014 if you wanna get into the specifics). There are many reasons for that, the main reason that I got out of the habit of being concise and not writing dialogue (which when you do NaNo then start a whole new idea with characters then do Camp NaNo…twice means you get into the habit of writing a shit ton of dialogue). But I have taken a step back from Snapshot and a much more relaxed approach to Camp NaNo this month (which has gotten even more relaxed since I have taken my total word count aim down to 10,000 words, 5,000 words for each project is way more doable over the next one and half weeks) so I thought I would dip into the pit of things that I love and write an almost essay about it.

The weight in your hands is always different, but comforting nonetheless. Some stretch your hand-span to the limit, others take up no space at all. But both are welcomed like an old friend.

There are perfectly smooth covers that fingertips glide over and others that are rougher, comprised of rises and falls that catch under your touch. Sometimes flimsy covers give the illusion of extra protection but they slip up and down or off all together. As inconvenient as they can sometimes seem they give a character that you appreciate.

The spines seem to show the most external character though. Shelves of perfect, unblemished ones that each indicate a different adventure greet you in the beginning every time. They feel the most tentative of touches as hands trail along them with the beating of ‘maybe’ thumping around your head. They slowly break as pages are turned and words are absorbed. Thin, sinewy cracks creep their way along until they trail its entirety. the more it’s used the more tracks you create until to some they look battered and worn, beyond further enjoyment. You disagree, to you they look loved.

The pages themselves hold countless possibilities. Filled with simple words that create vivid worlds, romances, passion, anger and more. Some are a long ever changing, satisfying ride and others achieve greatness in a matter of sentences. Which leads on to the fact that some are devoured in mere hours and others feel like a never ending story. Ink smudges and stray fingerprints embed their way onto the pages as they are turned and used. Accidental food and drink stains become a new addition to the cream white and black. Creases from the times you had no choice but to ‘gently’ fold the corner over onto itself become an irregular, mildly annoying, pattern. Sometimes scribblings in pencil, or in a few cases indelible ink, mark their way onto margins or highlight parts that resonated. Little messages and thoughts that add to what makes it yours.

The weight in your hands feels different when it’s over. It comes with a slightly empty feeling. No more vivid images, chapter headings or commas from that world. No way to experience it for the first time again. And it always leaves some sort of impression.

Well the good ones (or sometimes the really bad ones) do at least.

The best part is that you do get the chance to feel that all over again. And again. And again.

That’s the magic of books.

Parentheses count: 4. See you on Sunday!

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