The first book…


I don’t think I can name only one book that compelled me to write. Nor can I name the first book that I read and thought to myself “Wow this writer is amazing”. I always admired the story, the characters, the style of written word.

Honestly in the beginning I was thinking more along the lines of being a professional literature translator. I was completely satisfied by seeing my name written underneath the author and the title. I wanted to open a book and see my name there in small print, nearly nonexistent but still there. And then I wanted more.

If I have to name one book I cannot do so, but maybe I should write about the author of my favorite books from the childhood period. Lucy Maud Montgomery and her Anne of Green Gables sage as well as Emily and New Moon made up my childhood. This was my bedtime story. I read the books so many times that the covers became worn out and pages were nearly falling apart. I loved the characters and the style. I admired the little girls who in spite of everything grew up to be respected and successful women.

Writing a story, making someone stop and identify with your characters, to follow the intricate plot lines, the yearning for more… It is a powerful thing – writing, being a writer. Wielding such power is the greatest gift of all. Reaching for this power is very human. Being good at it is hard work and practice.

Daily prompt from:


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