On June 26th 1997, exactly twenty years ago today, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone was first published.
It would be another year until Sorcerer's Stone was published in the United States.
And at least another four years until I would begrudgingly pick up a copy and start reading.
I didn't want to read the books. By the time I did the first four were already published and the first movie was being released. It was already a thing. A fad everyone was talking about. And it was very important to twelve year old Jen to not follow the crowd. I wanted to be unique. I didn't want to go with the latest craze.
And then while I was in middle school three of my grandparents passed away. One right after the other it seemed like, although it was over at least a two year period. But when you are twelve and have never really dealt with death and all of a sudden you are dealing with too much of it, it can feel like the world completely hates you. And misunderstands you.
Several people had been goading me into reading the books for ages. Then one day, I don't remember when precisely, I finally picked up Sorcerer's Stone. Granted this was after I watched the first film. And I can't tell you how much I wonder what the reading experience would have been like for me had I read the book first. But none the less, I picked up the first book. And I read.
And read.
And read.
And the next day I was calling my aunt asking for her copy of Chamber of Secrets.
Not long after that I was asking for Prisoner of Azkaban.
Then Goblet of Fire not long after that.
Eventually I had my own copies. And the continual cycle of reading through these books again and again began as I impatiently waited for Order of the Phoenix. Of course it was my luck that this would be the largest time gap between publications. :(
I cannot tell you how many endless hours I spent pondering all the mysteries of the story. Why did Voldemort try and kill Harry in the first place? Was Snape really a good guy? Why could Harry talk to snakes? And when would Hermione and Ron stop talking and make-out already?
Everyone who has read these books has a story to tell. Their own personal connection to them. For me, they came at a time when a fictional world was a magical escape from the sad and harsh realities of this world. And that is something I think the world needs again.
It makes me sad to think of the possibility that this kind of book phenomenon may never happen again. Of course there are other great books out there. But this was something else altogether. It was a generational experience that I don't think anyone was expecting. JK Rowling gave millions of readers a gift that they didn't even know they needed.
And this is why. Why I want to be a writer. Now I'm not saying I see myself as the next JK Rowling (although I'd be lying if I said I had never pictured myself going on book tours and making movie deals). What I want to do is write a story that helps people escape. Not even people. If one person comes up to me after reading a book I've written and says it helped them through something then I'm there. I've made it.
When people ask me what I want to do I always hedge. I stutter. I shy away. I don't want to say it. Because I don't want to hear it.
"Oh really?"
"That's tough."
"How will you make money?"
"Are you going back to school for it?"
"Didn't you major in theatre?"
"What about teaching?"
Cue the adult speaking from the Charlie Brown cartoon.
Yes I want to be a writer. But I am constantly bogged down by self doubt. I've had a whole month off from work and have made no progress. And when I think about that my thoughts go to
You don't have the determination or
If you can't do it now, you never will or
YOU CAN'T!!!
And those are just the thoughts in my head based on my own actions. Throw in people casting doubts, or my believing that people are casting doubts because it is so much easier to believe the worst in people, and my thoughts go down in a nauseating spiral of how do I even manage to perform basic human functions.
And then I think of her. Living off welfare, with a small daughter to take care of and an idea. One simple, magical idea. And a hell of a lot of work.
Yes I want to be a writer. And yes I understand how difficult it is to even have the determination to sit down and write a story. Let alone getting anyone to even read it, much less publish it. And believe me I have considered many other career paths. I've had several different jobs. I've looked into several different jobs. And while many of them pay well, and I might even be good at some of them and even mildly like some of them...What would be the point in pursuing something while there is always something else that I would rather be doing? Isn't life too short not to pursue what you really want?
Do what you love.
Happy twenty years Harry! Thank you for the magic.
