First, I would like to announce the launch of my new blog, Bibliophilia & Me!!! I'm so excited for this. It's just a simple blog about all the books I'm reading, want to read, or am thinking about in any way. And it's definitely in a more casual tone than this blog is, and not set to the same strict schedule. I just wanted to create another forum in which I could discuss my obsession about books. And now I've established the beginnings of a blogging empire!!!!!!!
(*Pause to snicker at my own ego*)
Also, lately I've become very obsessed about numbers and productivity, so I'm working really hard to 1) keep posting on time, instead of use the draft option, and 2) catching up on the drafts by finishing and posting them. I let the drafts get a little out of hand, even though it was a crazy crazy busy time in school, and I'm trying not to let it get that way again.
So last night I attended a lecture presented by a foreign correspondent from the Associated Press. What stuck out for me was a phrase I never thought to hear a journalist- or really any writer- say:
"No story is worth dying for..."
I was frankly stunned. No story is worth dying for? No story? Not one? Not a single instance in your mind, not one, that you could recall, in which a story was worth dying for? I couldn't comprehend the sentiment.
Of course, I can say that, sitting here safe in my dorm room, only worrying about tripping over loose cobblestones, not dying or imprisonment over a story. And of course, were I in their shoes, who knows what choices I would make? Those kind of questions are fruitless. But I know that I would like to be able to say, if I was faced with that choice, the story would take precedence, if I truly believed in it. I would like to say that finding out the truth would be more important to me than self-preservation. I would like to say that I would face the hard choice squarely, and make a decision that I could later be proud of. Heck, I am in a way making that choice, in wanting to pursue a career in forensic anthropology, to bring the truth back from the mass graves and crime scenes.
And if in the future, some Olympian god descended from on high, and said "Shelly, you have a choice. You can live, and be a mediocre writer, and after your death few will remember you, or you can write the most heart-achingly beautiful story, but it will be only one story, and you will die".... well, I probably choose the story.
Right Now:
What I'm listening to: the wind, swirling and clanging my window blinds
What I want most: To really bang out some of these drafts. I'm aiming for at least two more here, and two in the Bibliophilia & Me blog.
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