A Different Kind Of Burning Sensation
Nietzsche once wrote, on writing, something to the effect of, “Writing for me is an embarrassing need. I do not know any other way.”
My friend Lilit, who makes my heart spilleth over in an ersatz big sister kind of way, writes in “brooklyn is burning” {emphasis mine}:
After this, the book won’t be so much mine anymore. It’s off to be edited and printed and illustrated. Of course the words will be mine, and the name on the cover will be mine. But I feel as if I’ve given birth to something that won’t be born until next April. Once the little bundle of mine is sent away, I’ll still get up and look at that empty screen every morning, and the words will come, because they always have, because they don’t know how not to, because I don’t know how to live without them burning out of my fingertips.
It makes me happy to know that good people who craft good things sign good book deals.
I am very proud of you, Ms. Marcus. I hope that those slender fingertips of yours keep on setting the world on fire.
