Words are powerful, indeed
I once told a good friend who had just had her book put on audio that it must be an amazing feeling.
And I was right. It IS.
Awesome, in the true sense of the word. Thrilling. Humbling. Those are your words. Someone arsed themselves to speak them aloud, tell them. Greenwode is on audiobook, and I’m finally getting to listen to it. In another month, Shirewode will be joining it, and yours truly will be in auditory bliss. The narrator–I prefer storyteller because, well he IS–Ross Pendleton, is fabulous. I sincerely want to share the auditory squee!
So, in aid of this, I want to invite you to visit the Dreamspinner audiobooks Facebook page tomorrow, (Saturday, 22 Feb) where I will be helping to host a giveaway of an audio copy of Greenwode. Come on over, say hullo, enter to win this fabulous audiobook. I’ll be checking in pretty regularly throughout the day to chat and answer questions: DsP Audiobooks on Facebook
I’m reading another book whilst listening to Greenwode. This in itself not unusual–there are books piled all over the cottage, half-read or being read, much of them research for the next projects because, well, everything eventually comes back around to the writing. But this book (The Guardian of All Things: the Epic Story of Human Memory by Michael Malone) has a particularly strong correlation:
“It was the increasingly complex demands of daily life, combined with consciousness and this irresistible call to meaning and purpose, that drove language forward toward realisation. We learned to talk because we had things to learn, and stories to tell.”
Written words can give one a shiver, like that passage did for me. The written word can be life-altering, uplifting, damaging, diverting; a power its own existence. But telling the stories, listening to the stories; this is something even more primal, buried deep within our consciousness. A storyteller is what I have no choice but to be; to hear one of my stories told–passed on–by another is something truly to leave one, temporarily at least, without words.