sferic

Dear Loonyverse,

After many years of dreaming, plotting, avoiding and not a small amount of tucking my head in the sand, I have finally begun...
The Novel.

We all have baggage, right? Mine is from Language Arts class back in Duluth. My teacher (who is .still. there, I might add) did not consider me to be one of The Greats in her class. I rarely understood her instructions, much less the writing styles and vocabulary she was trying to teach. I don't know what it was, but I didn't get the highest marks.

This week, umpteen years later, was my week to Learn Something New.
There was nothing wrong with my writing; I'm just an intuitive writer. I spent most of my life firmly convinced that I didn't have whatever it took to really put coherent words onto paper long enough to tell a story. In fact, the annoying voice in my head is still trying to convince me of this.

It all started....well, too long ago to remember. I've had this character in my head for at least a decade. No amount of burying my head in the sand, sticking my fingers in my ears and singing "La la la!" would put this character out of my mind. If I was still for long enough, my character would come for a little visit.

Then came the images. That was a few weeks ago. Anyone who knows me will tell you how .extraordinarily. visual I am. I'm always talking about the pictures in my head when I get an idea. I cannot follow directions unless I see them. With a picture. Ideally with colors and nice arrows and mileage and such. But I digress.

Have I mentioned how much I love my sweetie? This is related, I promise.
After squirming for several days about how badly I wished I could write a novel because the story just needs to bust out of my brain, she looked at me and said, "Well. What are you waiting for? Write it down. You've got a pen. Here--have some paper."
I looked at her aghast like it was the strangest idea she's ever had. Write it down? You mean...actually write the novel? Like...on paper?

I'm not so dense as I sound...but after over a decade of experiencing others' total non.excitement about my writing, what would you expect? The story in my head was, "I cannot write. I should stick to teaching, because even if I get stuck on a physics problem, I can figure it out. A book would be too much work, too much structure...and I'm just not capable of such things.

Right?

Right. So I've written almost 5,000 words. People who've read it have been kind enough to say they like it.
My editor brain is turned off. I'm in story-telling mode.
Let's hope it works.

O Wonder of Wonders.