I have a confession. I cry. Part of is family heritage. My mother said she cried at a supermarket opening. I can believe it. Some emotions hit me hard, and they can come from anywhere. Twice today, images on the TV screen had me in tears. I just finished the season finale of Torchwood, and that was a tear-evoking episode and for predictable reasons.
But the other one came out of the blue. I turned on the TV and found myself part way into a movie I hadn’t seen before, The Lady in the swimming pool or something. Wait a sec. IMDB to the rescue. The Lady in the Water. 2006. It wasn’t the plot, which I missed out on because I tuned in late. It was just one scene. The mystery lady could predict the future and told Vic that his book (a cookbook?) would cause him to be killed for what he wrote, but that the words he wrote would influence a child who would grow up and change the world.
I’m a writer. It’s my goal in life to write something that will touch others. Could any writer wish for a better future? That one scene triggered something deep in me, and predictably, out came the tears. If I wrote fan letters, I’d write one for M. Night Shyamalan.