Thanksgiving weekend is here for us Canadians. I can’t help but feel a little strange not being with my family for the first time in, well, this is the first time I’m not with them. I miss the tradition, something feels very off. It feels as though for the first time, I am reflecting more about thanksgiving than actually participating in it. What is it that I should be thankful for? The list can be very general and broad, but what comes to my mind are the writers.
You cannot be a writer without being inspired. You can always shape and tell stories, but the craft that you practice as a writer, is due to the work of so many others. Writers are your teachers. Books are your first introduction to the power of the words.
There are so many authors that I would love to thank in person. There are all the writers of all the early chapter books, and the mystery novels I devoured in my youth. There is Michael Hoeye, who first introduced me to a wonderfully crafted world so similar, yet so animal and whimsical. Of course there is C.S. Lewis, and his wonderful Narnia series which kept boredom at bay during my many sick adolescent days, and J.K. Rowling, who made magic seem almost plausible in the world we live in today. Maria V. Synder, Phillip Pullman, Oscar Wilde, Robertson Davies, Shakespeare, Margaret Atwood, Neil Gaiman… teachers for every part of my life.
The beauty of the genre, the variety, the stylistic options available to us readers and writers, is that there will always be inspiration at any given stage of life. We can look to our predecessors for guidance, we can look to our peers for community. I am thankful I was taught to read. I am thankful for that drive, that lust for the story that makes you want to stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning, reading. I am thankful for the very first book I fell in love with.
Who are you thankful for?