It’s Weird That You’re Reading This
The fundamental disconnect of being a writer alone in her room…talking to the Vast Unknown Audience
I mean, it’s weird to write, at all. Isn’t it?
I’m alone in my room here, typing words with my fingers — words that I hear in my head — imagining “you”, my reader…reading these words. Hearing them in your head.
Hi.
Forgive me for stating the obvious, but…this is kind of magical.
I read all day long. I mean it: All. Day. Long.
I’m an editor by profession — copy editor, proofreader, line editor. And I’m a writer, by second profession. Plus, I read for fun, believe it or not; at the end of the day, I read without getting paid for it. Reading is pretty much my favorite thing to do.
Many of my friends are writers. I’m reading a book by a friend right now; I can hear his voice in my head, as my eyes move across the page. I can almost see him smile when he reads the funny parts. It’s a great book, about fairies and gnomes and magic and a world gone awry, in clever and amusing and painful ways.
Oh, and I’m editing a book by another friend right now, and I can hear her voice in it as I read. This book is about families and betrayal and desire and…
