So, there’s one story, my own, that I know would be a commercial success, but it’s a bitch to write. I hate going back in time feeling and seeing the moments and hours, days of heart thudding terror. I know it has a happy ending I’m living it. It still sucks to write out that miraculous story of escape.
I promised myself I’d write it in 2019, I’ve got bits and pieces down, but there’s always some other story begging to be written. A quick memoire of the first time I tumbled into a library at two years old, a 5,000 word piece on a mother-daughter experience as the mother walks her daughter through a failed rape attempt, that too came from experience, these felt more compelling to write about this fall. Then there was a short story about a woman healing through grief while dancing with a Great Blue Heron, not completely autobiographical but I did spend every morning for six months dancing with a Great Blue Heron about 15 years ago.
The latest distraction from writing the one story I know has the best shot at commercial success is a fun light magical fantasy, an unusual romance and it’s a hoot to write. Maybe it’s the project that I can turn to when the other feels too heavy? I don’t know, but what I do know is the one I’m writing now is far more insistent on being birthed. The story was just a fun little idea that I needed to start typing into a document. It made me giggle seeing the main character bemused and grumpy with a silly predicament, so of course it needed to be written. About 2000 words in and I see it as a long novella or short novel, making me roll my eyes at myself for allowing another story to get in the way of “The” story.
Sometimes stories just need to take you with them, or maybe truer is that you need to be taken by the story. Yeah, I think that’s it, I need to go for a magical moonlit romp if I’m ever going to finish that other story that has it’s own magic. So, 2019 you’ll get “The” story, but give me the magical romp as well, it will make the deep diving into old wounds much more easy.