Love Stories and a Responsive Reader

I used to write love stories when I was small where I would set myself as one of the protagonists, of course ;) and then hid the notebook in a secret place that would quickly be discovered by a very avid reader of my prose… my younger sister.

I knew she was doing it… rummaging through my drawers and devouring the stories in seconds. I knew that sometimes she was mocking me a little… I knew that there were times when she found my writing all too cheesy and emotional but still… she was reading it… and I felt privileged by her interest in them.

I think I understand now why I felt like that. You see… the moment she giggled or rolled her eyes while reading: “I waited a second and he kissed me gently”, she ratified my work.

The moment her mind travelled out of our country when the story said: “We went together to meet them in Ireland”, she endorsed it.

The moment she found consolation in reading that: “There is always a new beginning… and a better end.”, she validated my work.

The laugh, the mind wandering and the sigh of relief – here’s how the work of writers comes to life. The reader doesn’t need to like it to respond to it.


5 thoughts on “Love Stories and a Responsive Reader

  1. I loved your reflections on the interplay / negotiation / tug-of-war between author and reader. You’re right: engagement is not predicated on liking the work, and this fact in itself unlocks all kinds of marvelous possibilities…


  2. The gate has gait; the rusty old, trusty lock has the golden knob of aged brass while the greenery is living ivy with the clinging envy of passing time. No one enters here now! Once here behind the rust was a passage leading to a ferry across the wide river that lost its reason to exist when they built a bridge; now folk cycle past this spot and dont know that their great grandparents entered this space on their way to work.


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