The Writer

The smell is fresh and almost impossible to describe. It carries with it an anticipation of pleasure that is familiar to all lovers of words. Fresh ink and paper, glue and a vague chemical smell that permeates the whole affair. Contained within are thousands upon thousands of words, dancing together in new and intricate forms. The dustjacket slides off to reveal a cloth-and-paper binding. My heart is hammering as I run my fingertips over the lettering on the unbent spine. This book has been years in the making. This day has been decades in the dreaming. Under my fingers I feel the words humming — or maybe it’s just my blood whispering of kinship to the ink. It knows me. The spine bears my name, after all. My hands tremble just a little as I think of everything that went into this moment. I’m holding something priceless. This is the first copy of the first edition of my first published book.

This moment hasn’t happened yet, but I’m working hard every day to make it real. I love writing, but it’s more than that. I have to write. The stories are inside me, begging to be brought into the world. I simply don’t have it in me to refuse.

My name is Heather Landon. And one day you’re going to read one of my novels. Until then, this is my blog about the process of writing those novels. Follow along. It’s going to be a hell of a ride.

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