This writer though: Jeanette Winterson

I admire Jeanette Winterson as a writer. She's one of my favorites, forever. 

But now thanks to this book, I also admire her as a person. 

I find that she has courage that I might never have. Because I, myself know that, it is never easy to admit things to yourself, especially the bad  stuff. But Jeanette was able to do it not just with herself and to herself, but to a broader reading audience. 

Courage that I wish to have or maybe just dream of having.

Winterson's life isn't exactly a picture of perfection. But that's the exact reason why it feels so human, so real to read about. With every drawback and losing of the mind, there is still some lesson to be learned at the end of the day.

I'll never forget what she said about happiness. That being happy or happiness itself is only fleeting and we should not live our life with an end in mind. I choose to pursue happiness and I want to choose the long walk in the tunnel and not the light in the end.

She talks about books, all those English Literature from A to Z; and how it helped her survive. Jeanette calls them her home. She talks immensely about her mother and how everything in her life is linked to the ever religious Mrs. Winterson. No matter how bad it got between the two of them, in the end she was no other-worldly lady, but just her mother. That's how I would like to think of me and my mother as well; no matter how different and annoying we are to each other; in the end, there will always be a 'scrap' of gratitude between us and, of course, the love too. It's a relationship that you cannot choose but a love that endures either way. That's what makes it strong, I guess. I know, when the time asks for it, I'll be there for her like how she was for me, as my mother.

Winterson is inspiration. This is for anyone who's trying to seek a bit of purpose and meaning in their lives.

We are both fact and fiction.