Prologue “the first draft”
I am not that typical kind of girl. Not the one who falls in love and has butterflies flying in her stomach. Who can’t stop talking about him. Who writes his last name after her first name to see if it all fits. Who asks the flowers if he loves her or not. No, I’m not that kind of girl. To open up is quite a task and there must be the right guy for it. The kind who can handle what’s behind those walls. Year after year, building a thicker wall, the one you cannot break with a normal hammer. No, you need at least a cannonball to give it a little crack. And even then, it is not that easy.
Why am I telling this? I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to open up or maybe to find out I’m not the only pathetic person out there. Sorry for the ones I offend. But actually, if you do feel offended by these words, then you should do something about it. Just like me. What am I going to do about it? Honestly… no idea. There must be something greater out there. Something terrifying yet amazing. It’s time to take that step and see it for myself. You always hear the clichés of “follow your heart” or let’s not forget the “don’t dream it but do it.” Sure. Easier said than done. How did they start following their heart? Is it that beautiful on the other side of your dreams? Honestly, I don’t believe that. It can never be that easy. We all have to find our boundaries and our will to overcome any obstacle.
If you believe in fairytales and happily ever after, you’re reading the wrong story. You can stop now and read something else that will make you feel better. I don’t believe in true love. The only love you can find is when you read the romantic books or watch the cliché films. The ones where the character hates the man of the story but in the end, she knew from the moment she saw him, “This is the one.” Yeah, right. Like that happens in real life. Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not the most horrible person on earth. But when it comes down to love, I just have this fascinating opinion. I call it fascinating because my friends don’t understand why I talk like this. Sure, maybe you won’t understand it either. But there must be something you think will understand; otherwise, you wouldn’t read further (because, I warned you, remember?).
I am typing this story and to be honest, I have no idea why. Can you explain to me why you would read it? It’s not that my life is that interesting. At all. I am a simple girl from a small town who wants to become the greatest of them all. No, that’s not true. I want to become an author. Someone who is able to turn a blank page into magic. J.K. Rowling once said that she believes something magical happens when you read a good book. If you can find the right words to put on paper… but that’s harder than one might think. It’s horrible. It’s a lonely profession and then there’s the reminder of Hemingway’s famous words: “The first draft of anything is shit.” So, instead of writing magic, I write shit. It’s a lonely profession and you’re (at first) shitty at it. Then I can hear you thinking, “Why would you even want to become an author?” Easy: it’s the only thing I have ever enjoyed doing. Even when it’s shit. It gives you the power to write about anything you want and create your own people in the story. The ones you hate and the ones you come to love. However, we also need to pay bills, so I only have time to write in the evenings when I’m not working in the supermarket. Yes, you heard that right. A 28-year-old who still works in the supermarket. What can I say? I tried several jobs and who am I kidding? I failed in life. I had a plan, you know. By 25, I would have written my first book and people would have loved it. By 26, they would tell me they wanted to make a film out of it. And before my 30s, I would have three houses, six cars, and two husbands. No, kidding. Before my 30s, I would have written three books, two picture books, and one film. Shouldn’t be that difficult, so where did it go wrong? If only I knew…
PS. of course I know you won’t read this; for that, I have to publish a blog first.