I have two real passions in life; my baby girl and my writing. There are lots of things I love, lots of things I enjoy, but making a baby and writing have always been my life goals.
The Boy is similarly minded. His creativity is generally aimed more at music than words, but he has always longed to write but been too apprehensive to actually put his words out there. Until now.
The Boy has decided to start a blog. He is a man of many thoughts and many words, and indeed takes a lot of time to talk through the various complicated thoughts he has on many complicated things. As I write this he is “giving me a Hans Zimmer score to my blog within a blog” which seems to involve him dramatically waving his arms around and shouting “Dahhhhhh dahhhhhhh!” whilst two confused toddlers look at him with both judgment and bewilderment.
Whilst I am thrilled that he has found the courage to unleash his thoughts in written word for the world to see, as I know that when I began publishing my writing it was terrifying, I am equally torn.
Writing is MY thing. I cannot write music, I cannot play an instrument, and I cannot sing. He can do all those things and he can do them well. I can write. Writing is mine.
What if he’s more successful than me? What if his readership is bigger than mine? What if he manages to formulate a book faster than I did, and finds a publisher for said book when I have not yet managed for the two I have ready and waiting. What if he writes better than I do? What if people enjoy his words more than they enjoy mine?
Will my joy in my words and my writing be lessened if The Boy’s new venture surpasses mine? Writing is my love, my life, my passion. Words, to me, are of the utmost beauty. The utmost value. To lose that would mean losing a huge part of myself and that terrifies me.
Obviously I am being somewhat melodramatic. Others having success in something I love does not depleat my love for it. Does not take away any successes I do achieve and does not mean I love what I do less for it. I love The Boy and if he shares the love for the written word that I share then that is building more love between us, and more love can never be a bad thing.
The Boy shall be writing about films and TV shows mainly. Analyising them, rating or slating them. He has a fascinating way with words and a beautiful use of language. He thinks deeply and intently, and will find avenues of exploration into things I have seen that change my perception of them completely. He is fascinating, he is smart, and he’s very strange. I picture him sat before my computer, a Guinness in his hand, and a contemplative look upon his face. He shall stare at the blank screen as a sculpture stares at a block of marble, then he shall (after a bit more staring and several more pints of Guiness) chip away at that marble until a piece of writing that he is proud to launch into the world is sculpted.
And if he gets published before me I shall cry. And binge eat chocolate. Then cry some more. Then proudly hold his hand and celebrate him achieving greatness in a field I respect above most others.
The Boy’s blog is here, read it, love it. Tell me you love mine more. No I’m just kidding… sort of.