(There’s some funny stuff, too, because our hearts need a break. And the characters find their way back, which, as you know, is hopeful for us all.)
The other day I wrote with my throat tied in a knot and tears pressing for release.
Today, I let the tears come.
I don’t want to tell you too much. When a story is tender and new, I have to shelter it. If I tell too much, I might not do a good job summarizing the story that isn’t fully born yet—like showing a sonogram of an in vitro baby—and you might say something like, “That’s interesting.”
Which I will interpret as: Hmm, interesting is a beige that isn’t too rosy or too yellow. Interesting is a new pair of black socks. Interesting is something that’s ignorable, not too pretty, probably bland.
And then I really will have something to cry about.
I’m not holding back so much as holding in. The story will reach gestation in good time (not so long now), and I’ll bring it out for viewing.
Just thinking about doing so makes my stomach hurt.
For reading to the end of this blog, I will tell you the title: Arrivals & Departures and a little bit about the story: Robin, my hero, travels by touching a map. Sounds great, right? Only the landings are pretty hard (so they should happen water) , and she spends quite a bit of time in places she doesn’t want to visit.
When you’re creating something new, do you share with everyone you come across, or do you hold your creation close to your heart until you’re finished? I’m really curious why you do what you do. The creative process is a little mystical, don’t you think?