mantel

“If you get stuck, get away from your desk. Take a walk, take a bath, go to sleep, make a pie, draw, listen to ­music, meditate, exercise; whatever you do, don't just stick there scowling at the problem. But don't make telephone calls or go to a party; if you do, other people's words will pour in where your lost words should be. Open a gap for them, create a space. Be patient.”
― Hilary Mantel

I cry all the time these days, over pretty much anything — a song, a stubbed toe, a subtle shift in the light — it doesn’t take much. But one thing I don’t cry over ever is dead celebrities, even if they’re beautiful and young or I happen to admire their work. Today though, was different. When I heard the news I put down the phone and wept hot tears at my desk, greasing up my external keyboard. And then I felt callous, because it was callous. It was stupid and frankly, ungrateful to cry. Yes, she was a genius. Easily my favourite novelist. The greatest living one in the English language by some distance (there is no “arguably” or “in my opinion” in that sentence for a reason.) But I didn’t know her, so there’s nothing for me to weep for. I read her and now I can read her again. We all can. What a balm that is, what a gift.