September 22, everyone! Happy birthday to our favorite hobbits, Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Here’s to the hope that you spent the day the way a true hobbit should–with good food, plenty of it, better music, the best of friends, and no socks or shoes. Or, you know, failing that, reading one of the best fantasy novels of all time.
Yeah. My love for The Lord of the Rings has not faded yet. I hope it never will.
How did I celebrate?
Well. Pretty quietly, if you must know. Didn’t forget about it. Had some apple cake. And I had my first solo violin performance since…May? Is that right? Not because of the hobbity day, but I did cheer up a little on realizing the dates were the same.
As for a good book, my writing life has been driving me entirely bonkers the last two or three days. I sat down to get some work done Saturday afternoon…and ended up with 3566 words of a new fantasy story.
I’m not sure whether to cry from frustration or be completely satisfied with myself.
The story, for its part, is still sitting on the front of my brain. Bouncing up and down a little. You know, like a toddler that wants attention. Which is odd, since it is dark and miserable enough that I sometimes feel like shouting just for thinking about it too long.
Hazard of the profession. I feel what my characters feel.
So it’s nice to set that aside for an afternoon in favor of a book someone else has written. To remember the story that started with a sentence scribbled on an edge of a student’s paper while grading. To forget about all the things that make life too loud and too much of a headache. To get a cup of tea or cocoa, or a small glass of red wine, if you are so inclined, and curl up somewhere warm and snug and comfortable. Because somewhere, somewhere,
In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.
And that is the best and happiest thing of all.
…of course this post wouldn’t be complete without an adorable picture of Frodo and Sam. Credit to harmonia3784 on DeviantArt (sweeping bow to unbelievable artistic talent).