RIP Diana Wynne Jones
WELL. Ten years ago this November the man who wrote my favorite song died, and I was mildly amused at myself how COMPLETELY MOURNY HEARTBROKEN I was over someone I had never met and was never likely to meet. Four years ago this September the woman who wrote my favorite book died, and my reaction was more one of quiet, deep, personal contemplation. Now I find myself, rather unexpectedly, facing a combination of the two reactions-- over someone I only discovered just over two years ago.
I've known she had cancer for the past year, and I knew they gave up on treatment last MAY, so theoretically you'd think'd I'd have had time to-- build some acceptance. To expect this soon, eventually, and not have to react emotionally at all. But the other day-- well, I have to explain. Diana Wynne Jones died last night. But the other day, Wednesday, I picked up on some things-- rumors-- offhand things written by several people I knew to be friends of hers, which didn't NAME any particular person, but what with all of it together I KNEW they were talking about her, and I knew this was The End, and even though my suspicions were based on rumor and guesswork and putting unconnected things together-- my heart broke. Wednesday evening. Before I even KNEW anything. Over someone I had only just "met" two-and-a-quarter years ago. Who I don't nearly know so well as I "knew" George Harrison or Madeleine L'Engle. My sadness SHOCKED me. I found myself unable to concentrate on anything else until I wrote out my feelings --which was complicated because I was at work. And by "wrote out my feelings" I DO mean "write longhand," of course....
Here's what I discovered: it's not just that she was a brilliant writer. It's not just that she amazed and delighted me, and created some of my favorite characters ever. It's not just that I'm going to miss all the things she MIGHT have written, had she lived a little longer... well, it might be a little of that, actually. She had a unique outlook on the multiverse, something SPECIAL, something magical. And I have the weirdest feeling that now I have to take up where she left off.
I mean what the heck, Amy? I'm having enough trouble writing as it is. I am not, in any way, remotely as brilliant as Diana Wynne Jones, and I have no illusions that I might be someday. And I never got this feeling from any other authors passing, not even the one I named my daughter after-- those were just sad things. Not a Call to Action.
But reading DWJ's writing is different than reading other brilliant writers, too. Other brilliant writers, I read and think, "What an amazing book, I will never be able to write anything that good, I should just give up now." With Jones, I read and ... don't think anything about how my abilities compare to anyone else's at all. Instead, the floodgates of my imagination open, and I am suddenly seeing stories in everything again, hearing characters come to life in my head, THINKING LIKE A WRITER instead of like a wannabe-writer. I connect to her odd outlook on the world. It makes me feel like I have something worth writing about after all.
See, here's the difference between her and most people. See, most people will sit around a living room and maybe notice a unique piece of artwork, the brand name of the TV, whatever. An observant person might look at a pile of cushions on a chair and say, "Hey, that chair looks like it has a face." An IMAGINATIVE person (I dare put myself in this category) might say, "and it looks EXCEEDINGLY bad-tempered and grouchy for a chair." But DIANA WYNNE JONES would look at that chair and say "I AM SO WRITING A STORY ABOUT HOW THAT BAD-TEMPERED CHAIR PERSON COMES TO LIFE AND WREAKS HAVOC!" and we end up with the first story in her Stopping for a Spell collection. NOBODY ELSE WOULD HAVE WRITTEN THAT STORY. BUT SHE DID BECAUSE SHE'S AWESOME.
And there's a magic to being so out-of-the-box. That is the thing that ought not to be lost to the world. SOMEBODY needs to keep drawing our attention to the completely-didn't-think-of-it-that-way-befores. And I want to be ... well, A somebody like that, if not That Somebody. When I get down at myself for being a white-straight-(raised)middleclass-Christian-American-female-BORING-PERSON-WHOSE-STORY-HAS-ALREADY-BEEN-TOLD-THE-WORLD-DOESN'T-NEED-YOU-ANYMORE, I need to remember that I'm NOT normal, and I DO have my own unique outlook on the multiverse-- all I need is the courage to let that outlook LOOSE. Diana Wynne Jones gives me that courage.
Since Wednesday night I DID make a change in my writing habits. I decided, to break me out of my ruts, that I would break out the box of Writing Prompts I'd gathered up and put together but never really used FOUR YEARS ago. I would JUST WRITE when I had time to write: not mindless journal entries about how tired I am, not staring at blank pages trying to come up with something Perfect. I would write to prompts, and see where they would take me. I tried the first one this morning... and it was SO MUCH FUN. It's totally not a story I could ever share on here, both quality and content -wise, but it was just such a rush to let my imagination loose. Maybe this does mark a serious change in my writing habits, one that puts me on path to be a Writer again instead of a wannabe-who-just-talks-about-it. If I couldn't get myself into gear for myself, maybe I can do it for HER. To keep the light of Oddity alive.
Thank you, Diana Wynne Jones, for your characters and stories, but thank you even more for being such an inspiration.
I've known she had cancer for the past year, and I knew they gave up on treatment last MAY, so theoretically you'd think'd I'd have had time to-- build some acceptance. To expect this soon, eventually, and not have to react emotionally at all. But the other day-- well, I have to explain. Diana Wynne Jones died last night. But the other day, Wednesday, I picked up on some things-- rumors-- offhand things written by several people I knew to be friends of hers, which didn't NAME any particular person, but what with all of it together I KNEW they were talking about her, and I knew this was The End, and even though my suspicions were based on rumor and guesswork and putting unconnected things together-- my heart broke. Wednesday evening. Before I even KNEW anything. Over someone I had only just "met" two-and-a-quarter years ago. Who I don't nearly know so well as I "knew" George Harrison or Madeleine L'Engle. My sadness SHOCKED me. I found myself unable to concentrate on anything else until I wrote out my feelings --which was complicated because I was at work. And by "wrote out my feelings" I DO mean "write longhand," of course....
Here's what I discovered: it's not just that she was a brilliant writer. It's not just that she amazed and delighted me, and created some of my favorite characters ever. It's not just that I'm going to miss all the things she MIGHT have written, had she lived a little longer... well, it might be a little of that, actually. She had a unique outlook on the multiverse, something SPECIAL, something magical. And I have the weirdest feeling that now I have to take up where she left off.
I mean what the heck, Amy? I'm having enough trouble writing as it is. I am not, in any way, remotely as brilliant as Diana Wynne Jones, and I have no illusions that I might be someday. And I never got this feeling from any other authors passing, not even the one I named my daughter after-- those were just sad things. Not a Call to Action.
But reading DWJ's writing is different than reading other brilliant writers, too. Other brilliant writers, I read and think, "What an amazing book, I will never be able to write anything that good, I should just give up now." With Jones, I read and ... don't think anything about how my abilities compare to anyone else's at all. Instead, the floodgates of my imagination open, and I am suddenly seeing stories in everything again, hearing characters come to life in my head, THINKING LIKE A WRITER instead of like a wannabe-writer. I connect to her odd outlook on the world. It makes me feel like I have something worth writing about after all.
See, here's the difference between her and most people. See, most people will sit around a living room and maybe notice a unique piece of artwork, the brand name of the TV, whatever. An observant person might look at a pile of cushions on a chair and say, "Hey, that chair looks like it has a face." An IMAGINATIVE person (I dare put myself in this category) might say, "and it looks EXCEEDINGLY bad-tempered and grouchy for a chair." But DIANA WYNNE JONES would look at that chair and say "I AM SO WRITING A STORY ABOUT HOW THAT BAD-TEMPERED CHAIR PERSON COMES TO LIFE AND WREAKS HAVOC!" and we end up with the first story in her Stopping for a Spell collection. NOBODY ELSE WOULD HAVE WRITTEN THAT STORY. BUT SHE DID BECAUSE SHE'S AWESOME.
And there's a magic to being so out-of-the-box. That is the thing that ought not to be lost to the world. SOMEBODY needs to keep drawing our attention to the completely-didn't-think-of-it-that-way-befores. And I want to be ... well, A somebody like that, if not That Somebody. When I get down at myself for being a white-straight-(raised)middleclass-Christian-American-female-BORING-PERSON-WHOSE-STORY-HAS-ALREADY-BEEN-TOLD-THE-WORLD-DOESN'T-NEED-YOU-ANYMORE, I need to remember that I'm NOT normal, and I DO have my own unique outlook on the multiverse-- all I need is the courage to let that outlook LOOSE. Diana Wynne Jones gives me that courage.
Since Wednesday night I DID make a change in my writing habits. I decided, to break me out of my ruts, that I would break out the box of Writing Prompts I'd gathered up and put together but never really used FOUR YEARS ago. I would JUST WRITE when I had time to write: not mindless journal entries about how tired I am, not staring at blank pages trying to come up with something Perfect. I would write to prompts, and see where they would take me. I tried the first one this morning... and it was SO MUCH FUN. It's totally not a story I could ever share on here, both quality and content -wise, but it was just such a rush to let my imagination loose. Maybe this does mark a serious change in my writing habits, one that puts me on path to be a Writer again instead of a wannabe-who-just-talks-about-it. If I couldn't get myself into gear for myself, maybe I can do it for HER. To keep the light of Oddity alive.
Thank you, Diana Wynne Jones, for your characters and stories, but thank you even more for being such an inspiration.