Tóth Krisztina

I write. It’s been my passion for as long as I can remember. Poetry, prose, drama, lyrics, children’s books.

I make up stories, bring characters and situations to life. That is how I live. The adults around me were wrong when, as a child, they constantly warned me that I should always tell the truth ! That it’s not proper to bombard our peers with made-up stories. Of course it is!

Once I returned home from the nursery school and recounted that I was limping because an elephant had stepped on my foot in the forest!  I then went on to describe the incident in detail. I was already a writer—I just didn’t know it. A writer does nothing else but polish these made-up stories, all the while striving to create a calm environment, necessary for contemplation.

As a student, I trained to be a sculptor; then, for a good decade, I made a living creating Tiffany stained-glass windows; for the past twenty years, I’ve lived solely from writing. I have always had the same goal: to tell a story about our lives.

Something essential, something important. As accurately as possible. So that in thirty, forty, fifty, or even a hundred years from now, whoever reads these poems and prose will understand how we lived, what we talked about, and what we kept silent.

I don’t know what the future holds for books and writers, but I am certain that literature not only helps us live, but it is life itself: that writing is as necessary as reading, breathing, and loving.