Today, I found myself utterly bewildered. I was thinking about great novels and brilliant writers of past, and due to my usual inquisitive thoughts I wondered “how did they do it?” How in the world does one sit down and write something as exceptional as Mere Christianity or the Screwtape Letters? What inspired Dostoevsky to come up with ingenious novels such as, The Idiot or Brothers Karamazov, just out of the blue from the imagination of his mind? How did Austen gather ideas for Pride and Prejudice and so eloquently present notions and characters to the reader? How did Alexandre Dumas devise the intriguing story of the Count of Monte Cristo?
History’s pages contain countless superb minds, such as these, who rank high in my book. As more of these questions pressed upon my mind, I decided to do some research. I looked at biographies of the authors' lives. Research did not prove itself unhelpful. I gathered that these authors could write the way they did, because of their ability to observe life and things around them through certain perspectives that allowed them to see the bigger picture through the common details, that people usually discard and take for granted. They were not content staring at the surface but dared to peer deeper into things, gathering grander ideas through smaller notions.These authors had the chivalry to ask questions and look for answers. Writing is more than fanciful words and sentence structure, that is but a small component of it; it is so much more.
And here I find myself, a little eighteen year old girl with little life experience and not too much vast knowledge as I’d like to have and not even a lick of the writing capacity those characters had, fumbling to think of a story, struggling to write something good. Nevertheless, I will keep on writing, I will keep on reading, and I will keep on observing, leaving the rest up to God.