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In this I write to you all my fellow writers and readers. I hope I do not offend any of you in this because I write regarding something that is truly grieving me. This is something so important and so needed and if I do not speak this now I will bust!
I have been trying to find a good book to read for the last year, yes, I have found a few. But a few to me is like a low supply of food – I breathe books. Without a world of books we have no escape from this place.
Why I am so bothered because I see the direction that our “literature” is going. It seems that everything that gave birth to the world we can step in and out of in the blink of an eye has been truly forgotten. I am someone who loves to read. That and my respect for writers like Shakespeare, Austen, and Bronte is why I cannot stay silent another night.
What is happening to our literature? Everything is missing that we love. Why is everything we believe in missing? Why is no one capturing the passion any longer? Where is the burning? Why are we no longer on fire? Where is the bittersweet taste of true love at?
Shakespeare understood what it meant to burn! He not only understood but he brought into the light what passion and love is when united. Shakespeare knew and felt what it is to be so in love that it almost breaks the heart, the without true love there is no point in living. I pray to God that I find someone like Romeo – who even at a young age knew what it meant to burn. Age does not mean we cannot burn – love can blossom when two hearts unite with one sweet kiss. At the age of fourteen they understood what true love is! And yet some people of the age thirty have never felt it. But Why is this disappearing – becoming translucent in our world? This is love!
Jane Austen understood heartbreak. She captured so well how that when we are our weakest we prove to be the strongest. Austen was the strongest of women without a doubt. Where is the passion? The truth in today’s literature ? My heart breaks – have we forgotten what true love is? I am so worried that all is forgotten because I see it no more. They placed their whole hearts on that piece of paper called a classic! We writers seem to no longer be doing this. Writing is becoming superficial.
Writing is an art! This is not to be taken lightly. Where has the poetry of our hearts gone? If you do not make this difference and bring back truth, heart, soul, purity than it is gone. I believe so much in you writers! I have to put every ounce of my faith in you because if you do not make this difference – if we do not go back to the true heart of writing than we have nowhere to go! And our future generations will know not the art or the sweet bittersweet pleasure of entering into a world.
This is our escape from this world – we can go anywhere and be anything ! I ask you that are as passionate and have the passion built within your hearts to please make a difference! Please save us! I cannot stress how grieved I am. What they call writing today is not hardly art any longer! Bring us back to the place where true love exist, where my heart can rejoice in the moment of one sweet kiss. Leave us not his way. Do not make this world fake as other are doing, because whether we want to face it or not – heart is disappearing from literature. But we can take this back if we are willing to fight.
We need those that are as passionate as Shakespeare, as brave as Austen, and as daring as Bronte. Because in each of you young men there is a Romeo – let him out. Do not be afraid. Shakespeare was not afraid and he made a difference in this world!
Young women of such worth – bring out your Mary-ann. Bring out your Elizabeth or Emma. Because each one of us have thousands of passionate characters begging to be released. We need to go back, back when bearing our souls and our hearts is not a shame or a weakness but a strength used to save somebody out there needing to be held in the arms of a Mr. Darcy or a Romeo because their pain in this world is too much to bear, and even if it is only for a few minutes that she feels safe let her feel safe.
Maybe a young man out there needs to believe that there are honest girls and women out there. That we do have pure hearts, and there is someone who is waiting for him to hold her in his embrace. Because is this not what has saved us all? Oh I do say – this saved me.
Don’t let me down you modern day Shakespeare, you present day Jane Austen. I trust in you! Save those out there that you are meant to save.