Holy Crap, It’s Notte
There came a funny moment today when I realized that Notte’s voice is very much like Tolkien’s. I don’t mean the world Tolkien created. I mean the actual man.
Look at this letter he wrote in 1951:
You asked for a brief sketch of my stuff that is connected with my imaginary world. It is difficult to say anything without saying too much: the attempt to say a few words opens a floodgate of excitement, the egoist and artist at once desires to say how the stuff has grown, what it is like, and what (he thinks) he means or is trying to represent by it all. I shall inflict some of this on you; but I will append a mere resume of its contents: which is (may be) all that you want or will have use or time for.
Holy crap. It’s Notte.
My friend, I ask that you pardon my strange manner of storytelling. It is not my intention to speak with lascivious detail, or to repulse you in any way with strange gore. You have asked me how I came to be. This is the manner of my birth: in joy, tears, and blood.
Crazy-time. I grew up on Tolkien. I wanted desperately to write like Tolkien. As it turns out, I don’t write like him at all, and that’s not bad.
And then this crazy thing happened. It seems I’ve come full circle, but in the weirdest way possible.
Have you ever looked back at your favorite books to see if you took on the form of those who came before? Talk to me! Let’s compare writing-genealogies. This is too nifty to ignore. 🙂