Take a chance. Who would have thought 15 years ago that J.K. Rowling would be so fabulously famous and rich? Not even J.K. Rowling I bet.
I got to thinking about this when I went through some old boxes last month. In one box I found one complete opera and one half way finished opera I wrote when I was 17 (maybe 18). I no longer have the compilation disk of classical music I used- since I can’t compose music worth a darn. But the characters and their words came back to life in my mind the moment I opened the somewhat yellowed pages of the old notebook where I recorded these little experiments in lyrics.
In another box I found a series 17 sonnets I wrote when I was in my freshman year of college. Sadly, the middle sonnets [7, 8, and 9] were missing. But reading through them I was amazed at how optimistic, idealistic, and verbose I was back then.
In yet another box I found my handwritten notes about operas I wanted to put together, with story lines and characters. I found my notes on books I wanted to write back when I was 19. One book was about a major revolution in the U.S. led by a Cuban-American Senator and a young idealist- whose death at the gallows inspired an apathetic populace. Another was a Swiftian satire about a young scholar who travels through different nations recording their history and his experiences with the local government. I remember writing one about his experiences in a socialist state, but sadly, I can’t find it anywhere.
The last was a book based on an old Spanish folk tale about a beautiful young woman who lived in a large glass enclosure inside an old bar. Two rich young men come to court her, and pay the barkeep large sums of money in order to visit with her. Can you guess what happens next? Well go ahead and guess before you click on the page break.