I don't know what to say.
I admit to being exhausted. I stayed up almost all of three nights with a terrified post seizure good dog. JB is temporarily on crutches. Two young women who lost their mother to cancer a few years back will now lose their father. And it is my favorite holiday. I can't bring myself to decorate y-e-t, but I've bought fresh bough for the fence and I want pine scent in the house. I've also given thought to the gifts I will give this season. I love that part; more than getting, I love the giving.
I am rightly concerned and consumed with the writing of my second book. It feels endless. Part of the problem is time: I don't have enough of it. My best style is to write for 8, 10, 12 hours at a time. I barely come up for air. But I don't have open stretches like that these days. This is not a gratifying or enjoyable book to write and I'm not sure when it's truly done that I will let it find its way to the outside world. I hope so, but I'm not sure.
I went to a writing conference a few weeks back and the first page of my book was read aloud for a panel of three agents to critique. They gave some helpful criticism, and they told the audience of 200 people that my opening preface was pretty fantastic. I was floored and stunned and of course determined to keep going.
But I have other characters that are starting to pull at me. They are impatient. Claudia and her eight year affair with a married man. Her brother Cole, the journalist who longs to hear his Mother's poems. The wacky landlady in her baby blue chenille bathrobe. The married man and his too tender infidelity.
But for now I have a book to finish. To finish the edits, decide on the names and the locations, write the bridges, improve the verbs. And discover the ending. This last part is pretty perplexing. I should know the ending by now. But I know I will know by the time it's time.
I imagine there will be some good cheer on my blog during this month. I love the season. If I sound somber tonight, I possibly am. But mostly I am so damn grateful.
FYI: Here's the opening that landed some compliments from the agents:
Some of this story is true and some of it isn’t. A wise reader will probably figure that part out. Please don’t ask me. I have enough angst worrying about Bee’s reaction and whether Catherine will sic a Filipino dragon on me.
Also, don’t ask me if hearts heal. I have no idea.