My First Published Book

For a while now I have been planning to have one of my books published. I decided that I didn’t want to do it myself as an independent publisher; therefore I called up a friend who is a published writer, and asked him how to go about it.

The meeting was pretty professional. He had read my story and gave me many tips on how to improve it and if I changed it he would suggest it to his publishing company.  He also mentioned a few things that I have never forgotten.

 1. Nobody in Brazil gets published on one’s own. There has to be someone already in the business that can present your work to a publisher.

2.  If you decide to pay for it, anyone can have a book published in Brazil.

3.  Brazilians do not read. So, no one can make a living from writing alone.

4.  To become a writer you must write every day.  Set up a moment of your day and sit and write even if the result is not worthy of a prize.

I am very grateful for these tips that he gave me and have put them into practice. The meeting took place around 2011 and only a couple of weeks ago was my first book published.

The decision to go through with the project happened after my father passed away. The day after dad was buried my mother decided to get rid of everything that belonged to him, books included.  I realize that everyone has their own way of dealing with the loss of a loved one. I also realize that dad will remain alive in our hearts and stories that we tell about him. But the fact that getting rid of his belongs was so easy and fast lit a fire in my heart.  I do not have children and when I pass on the family will dispose of my belongings just as well.  In a nutshell, I decided that the best thing to do was to have my stories published and leave something for future generations to read. I love reading and believe that it is the best way to learn a language and also open your mind to new ideas and new worlds.

When I had made the decision, I got an email from a publishing company, where I had studied at ( I took a course on writing for children) and decided to hand in one of my stories.

The experience has been amazing and scary. There is so much involved in getting a book out on the market. I have learned so much and am so grateful that there is a group of people out there that help you and understand your fear and worries.

So on April 7, 2018, Charlie the Fish was launched. It was a very exciting moment for me and I am very happy with the results. Nonetheless I am aware that it can be improved, but we’ll just have to leave that for further editions.

I just hope that it brings a smile to those who read it.

Written : April 18, 2018 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion. 

April 7, 2018

THEOPHANY

People wonder why I have never been attacked in that dark area of town that I have to walk by every single night between 10 pm and midnight. The dark area is a couple of blocks from the university I go to to the bus stop where I have to wait a few minutes before my bus arrives.

As soon as I leave the university building, I say a little prayer which includes the sentence “God accompany me home”.

Saying this has been part of my daily routine because nowadays violence is on a rise and a life to some people is worth very little.

The walk to the bus stop is not pleasant at all. No one from the university goes that way so the street is deserted; the perfect place for a crime. Now, you might be thinking why I don’t take another path. The truth is that there is no other one. I can’t afford to drive everyday and the bus that takes me to my home just stops there.

One night I started walking to the bus stop and fear was creeping up my spine. One of the street lights was not working so the area looked darker than usual. I said my prayer and kept on walking. I could feel that something was wrong.

Suddenly a man on a motorcycle stopped beside me and offered me a ride.

“Hope on I’ll give you a lift”, he said.

But how could I hop on if I didn’t even know him.  I tried to be polite.

“No, thank you. My bus is on its way”.

“Come on hop on”, he insisted.

His tone was getting more aggressive. Inside I was trembling and prayed for God to protect me. I prayed so hard that I thought the man on the motorcycle could notice. I tried very hard not to cry. I know this man had bad intentions.

Suddenly I felt soft, warm hands hold on to mine. I looked to my left and there was a man who had curly hair. I saw love in his eyes. It is very hard to describe. How does one describe love in someone’s eyes?

“Let’s go. I will walk you to the bus stop.” He said softly.

The man on the motorcycle didn’t understand where that man had come from. He looked at me and said: “Is he with you?”

I had started off all alone and now there was a man holding my hands.

“Yes, he is”. As the words came out of my mouth, the man on the motorcycle took off as fast as he could.

The curly-haired man said once again in a very soft voice: Let’s go. I will accompany you.”

As we walked he told me he studied at the same university as I did. He also told me his name, but it was a different name which I cannot recall.

He stayed with me at the bus stop until my bus arrived and helped me on. We said goodbye and I thanked him.

The next day at the university, I went to the office to find out what course the curly-haired man was taking. I described him and said that he had a strange name. The secretary apologized but said that there was no one that studied there that matched the description.

Until today I can see love in those eyes.

Written March 30, 2018 Todos os direitos a Meire Marion

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