Well, not literally. I’m talking about the book I’ve been writing on and, more specifically, off for the last nine years.
When my mother was ailing I was struck with an idea for a book about her and me. I tucked it away in the back of my mind for later. I said nothing to anyone until the day after she died, when my closest friend and I were headed back to Montreal for the funeral.
As the words literally started pouring out of my mouth, my friend handed me some paper and a pen and I spent the rest of the trip writing. This
went on for the next three months. It was amazing, the book was literally writing itself.
Who do you see when you look in the mirror? No, I’m not trying to be a smart ass; and it’s not a trick question. I’m being serious. Because it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s your own true self you’re staring at. In my experience, at one time or another, we’ve all created a persona we’ve sent out there into the world.
Sometimes it’s who, or what, others — like our parents or spouses or teachers — want us to be. How many young men and women have become doctors or lawyers or firefighters or teachers or have gotten married or had children in an effort to please their folks — only to end up miserable because they wanted to do something else with their lives?
Sometimes it’s us. We wish we were like a character we enjoyed in a book or a film. Or more like a friend or colleague. Someone we think is more interesting or more intelligent or more successful or more admired or more charming or more memorable. Someone who seems to have a more exciting, more fulfilling life. Someone who’s braver than we are. More daring. More adventurous. Naughtier. Funnier. More