Writing a novel is an adventure. It starts with the taming of the great living beast that is language, and then requires exploration, of the shadowy attic in your memory, and the holes in your heart, and the labyrinth in your mind…
Some of the things you’ll find along the way will be unpleasant. But you’ll also gather literary riches, and you will put as many of them as you can in a sack, which you will then hoist on to your back. And you will carry on, and the sack will become a burden, and each new step you make will be slow and heavy.
And just when you think you’ve made it the mist clears and before you lies a great precipice, the last challenge: the tightrope-walk over the abyss of self-doubt. You can’t walk on a tightrope with a sack hoisted on to your back, so you will have to sort your treasures out, and pick only the most valuable ones, and bundle them up and tuck them under your arm. Editing.
And if you make it to the other side, you’ll be greeted by a smiling chubby person, and next to him is a placard: Publisher. If your riches are worth showing to the world, the publisher will blow a trumpet and a few good-looking persons of the opposite sex will presently appear, and they will carry you on a litter and give you a bottle of champagne.
Your adventure is completed.
You don’t know where they will take you. To the hall of the immortals, or the palace of the rich, or the ratty hut of the unknowns…
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boy with a hat 
Very profound. I’d like to see how publishers, the world over, see themselves in your your description. 🙂
How do you see yourself in it?
Are you afraid of heights, Silvia?
Reblogged this on Ramblings From A Mum and commented:
If you aren’t aware of this very talented young man, please go and visit him. Had to re-blog this Vincent.
“Writing is always an adventure and exciting world full of words”… Go ahead and have a glass of champagne now to celebrate the weeks you spent working towards reaching your goal.
And the weeks that will come.
The metaphor is perfect. The writing, sublime. The photo, superb. Your novel is, too.
Immortal, you are. Never an unknown.
Awww…
You just say that because I wrote a story about you.
🙂
Nope. Not true. I was just assigned to write a rather intimidating newspaper article for my local paper about the “Public Safety Realignment Initial Implementation Plan” by the county’s probation department. When I was, I thought of a tight rope. I thought of the abyss of self-doubt. And I thought, “The Hatted Boy is *so* right.”
Poor Jessica!
And I thought she was carefree all the time…
Ahh. There is much you do not know about me, and I about you, dear Hatted Boy. Thankfully, there is time to learn.
“requires exploration, of the shadowy attic in your memory, and the holes in your heart, and the labyrinth in your mind…” Very well written, little one! If I could, I would reblog your entire blog! 😀
Little one? 🙂
I am short and frail, it’s true.
Nope! Little one as in “way younger than I” 😀
Never mind, never mind! I like that appelation. 🙂
Vincent, I especially liked the metaphor of the tightrope; it made the piece for me. And, you used the perfect visual as well. Good work!