Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
Long ago, When I was young, I read Neil Gaiman's Stardust. And decided that I wanted to be a writer. Not because I thought that I would be good at it, but because I wanted to tell the stories in my head. And was amazed that there were people who got paid to do that. Though it wasn't about money, it was more to do with, the fact, that we all have to do something and this is what I wanted to do. I owe Neil Gaiman an enormous debt, for this inspiration. One I can't repay even if I buy every one of his books and have read them (except for the Duran Duran, autobiography). So instead I try to write something that is more successful than the last time I sat down in front of a keyboard. Originally this blog was going to be my education, by making myself write every month something till I was comfortable with my grasp of the English language to write my fiction. That day never came; instead, I rely on software to help fight against my lack of formal education. But still, I want to be a writer, no matter my lack of knowledge. Or, the fact I don't need money right now because of the disability check I get for my mental diagnosis. I still have stories I need to tell. And it always goes back to stardust.
Why stardust? I needed an escape during my childhood, and it provided that. I was a confused, angry simple-minded human being who was reaching a limit and stardust walked me away from the edge for a while. And has become an anchor in my fight against staring down into the darkness. This is more about me than the book, this is not a review. Stardust has become A symbol to me that we can escape because there are moments when we need to. I was almost wholly self-educated and trying to teach my little brothers how to read. I figure I needed to be able to do it on some level that did not involve me sounding out every word if I was going to teach them. So I decided I was going to read, some of these things called books. And stardust gave me more than I had anticipated, it gave me hope. That somewhere out there, just over the wall was something better than what I had known. A place where I could think and imagine without judgment and that maybe the wall was inside my head, and all I had to do was cross it. Perhaps it is all the years of therapy, or possibly I am maturing, but when I want to pass those borders again, I am content with reading Stardust. But something in that book speaks to me that there are places, in a different direction (but still somehow past the wall.) where if I ever become a skilled enough writer I can help someone escape when they need it most. Thank you, Neil Gaiman.
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