Book of My Heart

Having a super difficult time with putting my butt in the writing chair. General busy-ness. Birthday. Friends. Fun. Social media. Lee Child. Selling house. Looking at new places. Cleaning like crazy. A busy life is one part of why I have not written in the past week or so. The other part of it is my story.

This novel I am working on is “The One” — the book of my heart, as the romance writers say. And that makes it a joy but also very tough. I am writing about a personal truth with fictional characters. I need to make one character (the ex husband) so far from the real person, (the one he used to be; I don’t know him at all now) and it’s giving me fits.

It’s really hard to take someone you respect and love and make them into a creep. But I have to do it. For the story. It’s the only thing that works. This guy is a minor character in the novel but he is a major pain. I’ve got to fill him out more. I thought I could get away with a quick sketch, you know how some writers can do that with just a few words and you’ve got the whole picture? I’m not able to do that with this guy. I tried. It didn’t work. He’s too complex.

It’s easy to avoid people when they are on the page and not in your face. Put the book in a drawer. Clean another closet. Go out to lunch (again.) But that’s not what I really want. What I really want is this book finished before I go back to school. And that means I need to work on it. I have taken notes, I have ruminated, I think I have an answer to my dilemma. Now, I must execute it. It’s time. If not now, then when?

I have been saying if I get this book published, I’ll die happy. I will have fulfilled my life’s purpose to the extent that I understand it. So, if I don’t finish it, if I give up now, I will be forever pissed at myself. I will die mad at my own lazy ass. Which at the moment is in the chair, so I might as well click over to Word and get busy.

 

 

 

 

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