An aspiring author confronts the literary demons of the world and sets off in search of an agent.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Magical Baptism

I’m reading Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami and this is a joy, in part, because it features a young woman who is struggling to become a writer. She pours out her frustrations to a friend,  “Images, scenes, snatches of words…in my mind they’re all glowing, all alive. Write! they shout at me. A great new story is about to be born – I can feel it. It’ll transport me to some brand-new place. Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put all these down on paper, I realized something vital is missing. It doesn’t crystallize – no crystals, just pebbles. And I’m not transported anywhere.”

In response, the friend offers the following, “A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side.”

A story is not something of this world?

Magical baptism?

Does this mean I need to become a dimension-hopping, holy thaumaturge? Was that in the job description?

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