Joy in creation is the more or less long work we do, to carry out a project close to our heart, such as:
* to raise our children to become responsible and happy adults ― long work!
* to spend few hours in the kitchen to offer happiness to our guests around the table,
* to read a lot of books for the bibliography of my novels; to write, throw away, cut, rewrite, until the word THE END ― which leaves me both happy and unhappy! (Why ? That’s another story! …
I’ll tell you if you ask me to!)
Creation and the work it requires are joy.
The consequence of joy is happiness: happiness of a harmonious family around us ― whatever its shape is; happiness shared by the guests around our table; happiness given to the readers and that
comes back to the writer a hundredfold.
But, let's not anticipate! The day I started writing, I felt joy for different reasons: my existence finally took on meaning, the work of creation, solitary, relentless, exhausting, rewarding,
filled me, and I finally expressed what I had always been, but that I had not revealed to myself or to others.
However, during the whole time I was writing my first novel, I didn't share my joy with anyone. Why? Because, although I had self-confidence, I couldn’t rely on a lack of self-confidence from the
ones around me. So I preferred not to expose myself to mockery that kills inspiration. Because we only overcome what we don’t allow others or ourselves to doubt. So I walked alone, but filled
with joy!
It may seem contradictory, to be alone and at the same time to feel joy. However, it is not contradictory when you are in a creative process. For, although the heart and mind walk together, one
creates above all with the heart.
When an action is undertaken without soul or conscience, it doesn’t last long. Ask dictators ― whether they are heads of a state or of a family ― they make their people or families
miserable and find themselves alone in the end. On the other hand, when mind dedicates itself fully to the service of the heart or when mind is led by the heart, the dream can come true.
That, you will tell me, are only words! Not only, let me answer you. The dream comes true when there is a powerful conviction behind it. The creator must have the selfishness of the great
workers, that is, he must know how to sacrifice time to others in order to have enough for himself. It's not easy every day, but life is made up of daily choices and duties, as you know! One of
the first duties, when embarking on a creative work, is to complete it. It seems obvious and simple to say, but it is the most difficult thing to do: to complete what we start.
Yes, that is where joy is: in the work, in the very execution of the work, whether it is a family to build, a meal to cook, a company to lead, a picture to paint or a novel to write. It is an
internal joy, created by and for oneself and which is necessary to its creator. Why? Because if the creator does not let his creation come out, one day or another, in the more or less long term,
his uncreated work will suffocate him.
That said, once completed, the creation has consequences: a united and happy family, satisfied guests, a flourishing business, an admired painting or a popular novel. These are happinesses that
obviously please their creator, but that come from outside. A kind of icing on the cake! Why not, it's always good to take, is it?
So, no longer wonder if the number of readers influences the heart writer’s joy! His joy does not depend on it at all. His joy is in his writing.
Personally, there were only two things I hadn't imagined, while I was writing:
One was the happiness I was going to give to my early readers, to the real book adventurers! I will never thank them enough. Giving happiness is happiness.
The other thing I hadn’t imagined was the connection that was created between these early readers and me, throughout different countries and cultures all around the world. It is a daily surprise
to see how much a story can unite women of different lives and thoughts. Creating a hyphen of such power is a joy for which I thank my first readers.©
Gabrielle Dubois©
