Type

I think I've read somewhere that some dreams literally tug your conscience into making that dream happen. This tug is alive in me right now. To type my novel. To make it better. To make it readable. To make it flow like water over a child's hands. To make the reader to not want to put it down. This is my dream. To make people wait in line for books. To come back for more. To talk to those libraries to ask them for more books. This makes them happy. I want to inflict this dream of mine to others that THEY can write a novel. That writing is fun. That the art of storytelling is like trees for fish. I want even them to believe that not all books are terrible. Like Rick Riordan. He wants reluctant readers to learn that not all books are terrible. For book worms who can trudge through the most dull book just to see the ending. This may not make any sense. Probably not at all to some. I revel in confusion. In those facial expressions. There are so many books ideas in my head that I know are there now that I've have written a novel. So many ideas. I simply must start. As so many of those beginner authors. The best place to start, is at the beginning, then to trudge through the swamp to the end, where the glory is. Where the happiness for some is. I know that this road is tough. I know that it's going to be tougher than I've ever thought. But these ideas in my head. They need to be shown. To be known. They may not catch like fire right away. Maybe never. But it's possible. I hope I'm prepared for failure, and can learn from it. But I will accept victory if it comes.