Musings on personal growth, books, motherhood, writing, and more. "Every hour is saved from that eternal silence, something more, a bringer of new things." – Tennyson
The great writers of old are my heroes, my teachers, and my “cloud of witnesses” whom I imagine looking down on me in support and camaraderie as I write. In that sense, I also talk to them in my head, imagining them giving me support and advice. They always have interesting and helpful things to tell me! 🙂
My list of heroes-imaginary friends includes (but is not limited to):
Which one I “talk to” on any given day varies according to my mood or which one I’ve most recently been reading or thinking about.
I can only think of these great writers as friends now, after I’ve begun to think of myself as a writer with my own opinions and things to say. Before, I used to think of these writers as essentially gods to be worshipped, whose realm I could never touch. For example, see my earlier poem “When I Grow Up” (I was going to paste it here, but I didn’t have the time to re-figure out how to do all that crazy formatting). In other words, I’m growing up to be myself!
But I am so glad to have these predecessors and role models. Maybe I’ll never be anywhere near as great as them (I’m going to post about this on Wednesday, actually, so stay tuned), but regardless, my life is better for having them “in” it.