I started a new book this morning and I'm not really sure what to do with it. Of course, I'm only 21 pages in, so we'll see as I keep reading. But the sensation is like being pulled into a hole, deeper and deeper, by inches, down into the darkness, with each page I turn. I look up and I can still see blue sky and sunshine, but it keeps getting father and farther away.
It's surprising because it looks like such a light, happy read.
Other people's writing can take us deep into our own stories. And sometimes we don't realize we're caught until we notice that the slight discomfort we've been feeling comes from the hook that is inextricably stuck in the tender and delicate skin of our bellies after we've swallowed the proverbial hook, line, and sinker.
Do we digest what we've taken in to ourselves? Or regurgitate?
I could no more stop reading than I could burn a book. That's really the whole point of the hook in our fishing metaphor, isn't it? It's right stuck. And if it's one of those treble hooks, well...
This story has a barb and it's just beginning the mighty battle to keep this fish on the line. But is it the story that is the angler in this metaphor, or is it the reader who will do battle to stay engaged and reel in the prize?
I'll discover more as I move into the deeper waters.
Days of Accidental Beauty: 40 Days of Noticing is a daily writing practice that invites discovery.
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