Yip. Ee.

Something is happening. I’m not sure I even want to write about it, because I don’t want to jinx it. Unfortunately, if I’ve learned anything from this little blogging experience it’s that I can only write what is in front of me. When I attempt to write what I think I should be writing about it always ends up sounding forced and insincere.

So. The thing that’s going on. It might be a shift of some sort. I had a little conversation with Bestie A yesterday. We got into it about what is really going on, what it is that is stopping me from moving forward. Specifically, on to the second book.

The second book. It’s very different than the first. More mature. It’s coming out in present tense, which feels so lovely and clean to me. My main character is strong and independant, not insecure and damaged. And it’s not a romance per say. I think there’s some kind of little love thing in it, maybe. Mostly, though, it’s about the romance of womanhood and motherhood and sisterhood. Which, incidentally, sounds pretty good to me. And I love these characters. Not quite as much as the first book. Not yet anyway. I probably just don’t know them as well. But I do love these characters. And I can see that - if I let myself - I could – if I wanted to – really get into it. Maybe. Probably.

So what do I have to do? Mostly open my mind. I have to open up to the possibility that there is another story in there that is as all-consuming (though hopefully in a less insane way) as my first experience with writing a novel. I have to be willing to let go completely of the experience with #1 and leave the outcome in someone else’s hands, and also be willing to let the story of #2 come all the way in.

I wonder if part of what has been stopping me is that I’m afraid I won’t actually be able to handle it. When I started writing #1, I was literally consumed. I would be at the dinner table, my beautiful family surrounding me, wanting to share their days with me, and I would be itching, fidgeting in my seat, taking deep, expressive breaths until finally my wonderful, tolerant, glorious husband would say, “Would you just go already?” At which point I would perhaps take time to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing downstairs to write.

I kept a notebook by my bed and in my purse and in my car and on my desk, because oftentimes I would be jolted suddenly by the writing gods, the answer to some problem I’d been wrestling with coming to me in a flash while I was sleeping or doing laundry or driving my car or taking a shower.

It was on my mind constantly. I talked incessantly about them. I totally tapped out my husband’s patience bank. There was only so much he could take. I was distracted and absent. I shirked my responsibilities, all while blabbering on and on and on about what was happening or what I was having trouble with or how I was going to get from here to there. More often than not, he would offer up insight or help me find the answer. But sometimes, I think he just wanted his wife back.

We had a conversation the other day about how he continued to be supportive and encouraging for such an intense period of time. We realized that what he was witnessing happen to me was so powerful, so undeniable, that he could do nothing else but cup his hands under my foot in order to give me the boost I needed to get to the next place. Extraordinary really. Again with the question, how did I get so lucky?

I feel pulled in a million different directions to begin with. I’m a wife and mother, a business owner, a participant in life. It’s rare that I feel like I’ve gone through a day giving 100% in any area. Add on something like living fully inside your passion, forget it. When I am spending a lot of time writing, I have to be honest with you, it is hard to think about doing anything else.

Am I ready to go on that roller coaster again? Is my family? While I’ve been editing and seeking representation, it has been a little less hectic. Have I given sufficient time to everything in the interim? Am I ready to go back into the huge, dark auditorium of my mind? Can I do it without getting lost?

I’m not sure I know the answer, but I can tell you this: I heard this song. I mean, I heard this song in a different way. I’ve loved it for a long time. It’s called Unsuffer Me by Lucinda Williams. You should all go listen to it when you’re done with this post. When I heard it today, it opened up this new place I didn’t know was there. #2 hasn’t been inspired by music. It’s mostly been inspired by kids and husbands and besties. But I heard this song and I started to see something in my mind. It’s peripheral still. I haven’t let the photo really develop. I keep looking away from it before it becomes clear.

Like it really matters. I know it will keep dogging me. Try as I might to avoid the song, I will find it playing in my mind without my consent. A yearning will start in my arms, across my chest. A sort of emotional pressure that can only be relieved by one thing. I will put on my headphones and fill my brain with Lucinda’s chemical whine, listening to those words over and over until my fingers are forced to start moving, making words appear across the page.

Yip. Ee.