Once Upon a Time

October 13, 2009

Writing a novel is like maintaining a relationship. You spend all of you time getting to know and understand your novel just like you would with a new man in your life. You commit to making things work, being faithful, and seeing things through to the happily ever after.

But relationships can be messy things. They need to be maintained and require sacrifice when necessary to ensure success. You might wonder if it woud be easier to dump your novel and get a fresh start and try something new. But men will always be men. Novels will be novels. Both are complex and no two are alike. But when you get through the struggles there’s something wonderful.

This time last year I commited to writting a novel. I had made that same commitment many times before but I had a feeling this time would be different. This time my novel would have a beginning, hopefully a middle, and maybe even an end!

I’ve made a relationship work before… and have an awesome husband to show for it. Maybe just maybe I could write a novel too.

And I did it! Beginning, middle, and end.

Getting published is on my list of things to do. Certainly not with this novel, but someday with something. What I gained last year was the experience that I need to go forward. I have made subtle changes in my life that are more accomodating to the commitment that writing requires.

It’s my job to write now. I’m a press assistant (won’t say for who, sorry) and get paid to write carefully selected words in the form of press releases and statements. I spend a lot of time conducting research and my work is used and distributed by various media outlets.

I discuss my novel-writing thought process openly with my mother. Mommies are good for being critically honest and totally supportive when you need that too. She checks on my progress weekly and just last week she called me out on slacking. 😦

My husband knows I enjoy writing and is very accomodating of my hobby. He gives me time to think alone and even gets my laptop packed up and ready to go for my rail commute each day. He’s even offers to let me get back to writing… even though he was most likely just interuppting a game of solitare.

So that’s my life as a, dare-I-say, writer.

And what of the novel?

It is still untitled and still desperately in need of more substance. The substance is there in my head but gets lost between my brain and the computer. But I never gave up on my husband. I’m not giving up on this novel.

The re-write begins…

Happy writing!

Fin.

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