“I try to write so much like myself that no one else could have written like that.” These profound words come from the website of my current favorite writer, Markus Zusak, the author of The Book Thief and I Am the Messenger. I dream of taking these words in and swallowing them, devouring them as inspiration, using them to help me become a writer most like myself. Instead, I find I am envious, coveting his talent, his incredible brain, his success, wishing I wrote like him rather than like me. I have so enjoyed reading him; shall I study him, as well? Or should I put him away in the hope of becoming more like myself?

Suzak, indeed, writes like no other I have ever read. The mere concept of writing The Book Thief from the point of view of the angel of death was brilliant, but the technique that impresses most is his use of figures of speech in this incredible book. The world is personified. Smells become actions; colors transform into tastes and sounds; the imagery moves the reader to tears. I come away wondering how one thinks of such words and endeavoring to do so for myself.

The amazing language prevalent in The Book Thief does not exist in I Am The Messenger. In this masterpiece, the story, the mystery, and the revelation of character are what enthrall and capture and inspire.

It has been my experience that most writers are compelled to put words to paper. There is no conscious choice. Oh, I’ve been sent a few first chapters by some intelligent friends of mine who have thought maybe they would write. Sometimes the story is good, but most of the time, it’s not so good. They put these first chapters on a shelf and move on with their lives.

Then there are those who fill journal after journal with word after word, who refuse to stop writing, even when they’ve been berated for wasting time, told they have no talent, and forced to get real job. I am one of the latter, cursed. My guess is that Zusak is one of the latter as well, but I think of him as blessed rather than cursed.

Somebody soon, I hope to think of myself as blessed rather than cursed. I hope to become more like myself, a better me, someone whose words may inspire or even elicit of tinge of green from my readers. Until then, I keep studying and learning and waiting anxiously for the next Zusak book to come out. I will buy a real copy and dog-ear its pages and dream.

Suzak, indeed, writes like no other I have ever read. The mere concept of writing The Book Thief from the point of view of the angel of death was brilliant, but the technique that impresses most is his use of figures of speech in this incredible book. The world is personified. Smells become actions; colors transform into tastes and sounds; the imagery moves the reader to tears. I come away wondering how one thinks of such words and endeavoring to do so for myself.

The amazing language prevalent in The Book Thief does not exist in I Am The Messenger. In this masterpiece, the story, the mystery, and the revelation of character are what enthrall and capture and inspire.

It has been my experience that most writers are compelled to put words to paper. There is no conscious choice. Oh, I’ve been sent a few first chapters by some intelligent friends of mine who have thought maybe they would write. Sometimes the story is good, but most of the time, it’s not so good. They put these first chapters on a shelf and move on with their lives.

Then there are those who fill journal after journal with word after word, who refuse to stop writing, even when they’ve been berated for wasting time, told they have no talent, and forced to get real job. I am one of the latter, cursed. My guess is that Zusak is one of the latter as well, but I think of him as blessed rather than cursed.

Somebody soon, I hope to think of myself as blessed rather than cursed. I hope to become more like myself, a better me, someone whose words may inspire or even elicit of tinge of green from my readers. Until then, I keep studying and learning and waiting anxiously for the next Zusak book to come out. I will buy a real copy and dog-ear its pages and dream.