Quirky - Who me? (A little about Me, Bilbo & Betsy)
I have, what I believe is a rather interesting (albeit a touch quirky) habit. I repeatedly re-read The Hobbit. It’s not really because I love the story, although I certainly do. It’s not because I am enchanted by the characters, although how could one not love Bilbo Baggins? It’s not because J.R.R. Tolkien was a brilliant author, although there is no doubt that that is the case.
I re-read The Hobbit whenever I feel the intense need to escape and relax, to purge the tension and stress that comes from working on a project (especially one with a deadline.) That’s the feeling I am consumed with today, as I have just completed the final proofing of the paperback version of The Fix. Being finished may seem like an immediate tension reliever, but for some reason, it ratchets up my stress to a new level. One where my internal voice repeatedly yells out – Okay, you’re done with the writing – now is anyone really going to bother reading your nonsense? Ahh, yes, my self-doubt lingers on and on.
Well, my friend, Bilbo, helps me deal with this anguish. He certainly has a lot more to deal with than I do in his adventures. I mean my goblins and dragons are only in my mind – his are real.
So, with all the novels that I have read and loved over the years, why is it that I continue to re-read the Hobbit? It’s because this book was gifted to me on my tenth birthday by my oldest sister, Betsy. We lost Betsy in a terrible tragedy six years later. I was sixteen and she was twenty-four. She was killed when someone threw a rock off an overpass on the FDR drive in NYC. That rock went through the windshield of the car she was a passenger in.
Betsy, the oldest of my three siblings, was a wonderful, selfless, and very caring person. Although she was my big sister, she was more of a friend. She helped me deal with and understand the earlier loss of our father, and she took on somewhat of a nurturing role with me, her youngest brother. I will always cherish my memories of her.
Just picking up my forty-two year old copy of The Hobbit, with its yellowed pages and tattered jacket, gives me a warm feeling. Reading my sister’s note on the first blank page is kind of magical for me – I think it does exactly what she intended – it makes me smile and chuckle. I was about to write the note here – but, I think I’ll keep that for myself.
I have never divulged my feelings about all this, except to my wife, and I find that writing this piece makes me feel good and simultaneously a bit melancholy. Reading it to my oldest daughter, Betsy, just made us both tear up.
I’m not exactly sure of why I decided to share all this, but, I figured now that I have published four novels, I’d tell those of you who enjoy my work a little about what makes me tick. So there you have it!
Thanks for taking a moment to read this. I hope you enjoy reading my novels; Sudden Death, Dead Ball, Gold Medal Threat, and my newest release, The Fix (written with Ryan Burr.)
Michael Balkind
I re-read The Hobbit whenever I feel the intense need to escape and relax, to purge the tension and stress that comes from working on a project (especially one with a deadline.) That’s the feeling I am consumed with today, as I have just completed the final proofing of the paperback version of The Fix. Being finished may seem like an immediate tension reliever, but for some reason, it ratchets up my stress to a new level. One where my internal voice repeatedly yells out – Okay, you’re done with the writing – now is anyone really going to bother reading your nonsense? Ahh, yes, my self-doubt lingers on and on.
Well, my friend, Bilbo, helps me deal with this anguish. He certainly has a lot more to deal with than I do in his adventures. I mean my goblins and dragons are only in my mind – his are real.
So, with all the novels that I have read and loved over the years, why is it that I continue to re-read the Hobbit? It’s because this book was gifted to me on my tenth birthday by my oldest sister, Betsy. We lost Betsy in a terrible tragedy six years later. I was sixteen and she was twenty-four. She was killed when someone threw a rock off an overpass on the FDR drive in NYC. That rock went through the windshield of the car she was a passenger in.
Betsy, the oldest of my three siblings, was a wonderful, selfless, and very caring person. Although she was my big sister, she was more of a friend. She helped me deal with and understand the earlier loss of our father, and she took on somewhat of a nurturing role with me, her youngest brother. I will always cherish my memories of her.
Just picking up my forty-two year old copy of The Hobbit, with its yellowed pages and tattered jacket, gives me a warm feeling. Reading my sister’s note on the first blank page is kind of magical for me – I think it does exactly what she intended – it makes me smile and chuckle. I was about to write the note here – but, I think I’ll keep that for myself.
I have never divulged my feelings about all this, except to my wife, and I find that writing this piece makes me feel good and simultaneously a bit melancholy. Reading it to my oldest daughter, Betsy, just made us both tear up.
I’m not exactly sure of why I decided to share all this, but, I figured now that I have published four novels, I’d tell those of you who enjoy my work a little about what makes me tick. So there you have it!
Thanks for taking a moment to read this. I hope you enjoy reading my novels; Sudden Death, Dead Ball, Gold Medal Threat, and my newest release, The Fix (written with Ryan Burr.)
Michael Balkind
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