Yoda, I hear ya, man. There is no try sometimes. There is only the do-ing of the things. And I’ve been doing things like crazy. Specifically, I’ve just printed my first draft of Book numero uno.
I want to do a pre-acceptance speech right now–Thanks to all of my peoples. My friends and family have been so supportive even though all I’ve talked about, thought about, or written about is this dang ol’ book. I have 331 pages done in something 16 days, now that I really look at a calendar and the dates I started saving drafts. But most of all, I want to thank whatever ghost possessed me to start typing and typing. No, that’s not it. I have to thank my husband most of all, who sparked this whole thing by telling me that I have it in me to write a book and on the way back from my cousin LG’s baby shower talked plot points and direction of the book.
I honestly didn’t think I would come back to writing. My first degree is in creative writing, then I got my master’s in landscape architecture. It was in poetry, so not quite the same thing as full-length fiction, but I took enough classes to know when I’m making sense and when I’m too convoluted. And for a long time there, my writing was impossible to read. I was too abstract, trying to inject meaning into every phrase. So much so that it was like trying to decode some CIA message about a broken heart.
Then something happened last September. I got the itch to write again. I felt apologetic towards writing; I was slightly embarrassed for pushing it away and wondered if it would have me back again. Now we have come around to the other side and there’s stuff running around in my head again. I got the crazies out (more or less) and I remember what it’s like to dream up a scene from scratch, and entertain myself and hopefully other people. It was a lot like tapping into my childhood self playing with dolls. I even remember growing out of that phase and wondering what storyline I ever made the barbies do besides make out. I seriously couldn’t remember. Then writing this book, it was like some other part of my brain took over, and the story unfolded, coming to me as much as a surprise as it would be to someone who read it.
Come to think of it, that’s a lot like giving birth. You let the part of your brain that knows how to give birth take over. I guess there’s a birthing section and a book-writing section. Who knows what else is in there.
I also wanted to thank you guys for stopping by my corner of the Intertron even when I had to take a break. When I could, I popped back in, and I got so many sweet comments and likes letting me know you’re still thinking of me, that you still wonder what EB, Hubs, and I are up to. I still get a dillion hits for my braces post, which I will never understand. EVERY DAMN DAY I get 25 to 30 hits on that one. But there are enough people stopping by to give me warm fuzzes, right above the area with a warm fuzzy growing and bouncing around in my uterus region. It makes me want to do both, if I can figure out how to split my time between the book and the blog. Both are fun and rewarding. Who needs to work for a living, right?
I hope you dudes have a super duper memorial day. No drinking and driving! That’s what your friends are for: to chauffeur your drunk ass around. Remember, there are kiddos strapped innocently to car seats in cars surrounding you, and there are preggos who tote those kids in car seats around. And we don’t want to be hit by your foolishness. I’m pretty sure the rest of the population (who might be a little more sturdy but still don’t deserve to be crashed into) is with me on this one.
First Draft Jells.