Being a fiction writer is a lot like being God...I create people, oversee their lives, control their weather, and decide when to end their time in the world I've created for them. They live inside my head for years, and as I listen and watch, I recount their lives on paper. I know them inside and out, and I grow very attached to them. When they leave, I am sad to see them go. I wrote this years ago to express the feeling of writing fiction. I write every day with the hope that one day my work, my life blood, my heart and soul, will be published and read around the world, even long after I'm gone.
~Fiction~
I made you up, created you,
laid you on a page.
I pulled your strings,
made you dance until a ripe old age.
Then I decided late one day
to take your life away,
then changed my mind and decided
I'd give you one more day.
I thought for you, guided you,
everywhere you'd ever go...
Did you even know that I was there
to see you thrive and grow?
Or am I just a far off source of
of pain and devastation,
who leads you near to Heaven's gate
then fills you with frustration?
You're just a product of my imagination,
you were never really you.
Just a source of my amusement,
something for me to do.
But make no mistake...I loved you,
each and every one.
And it brings me joy and sadness,
to see everything you've done.
As I re-read our pages and see it all unfold,
I'm amazed to see the story
that together we have told.
But unlike the Almighty Creator
Who lives forever and a day,
My powers lessen year by year
until my pulse just fades away.
Will you die with me, my children,
who live inside my head?
Or will your voices still be heard
when I am long since dead?
Elaine Moore
2/28/1998
Whimsicle truths . . . you captured what so many of us do and feel quite well. I enjoyed the read.
i think i've read this before. i love it.
My favorite lines...
I'm amazed to see the story
that together we have told.
But unlike the Almighty Creator
Who lives forever and a day,
My powers lessen year by year
until my pulse just fades away.
Will you die with me, my children,
who live inside my head?
Or will your voices still be heard
when I am long since dead?
You've said what so many of us feel as writers.
And said it quite well.![]()
The coffee is ready.
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- outerbanxmom
on Jul. 18, 2009 at 12:06 PM