I wish I had a cigarette for this. Or that I smoked. Maybe I’ll bust out the pipe.
The plan has been to write K&A. Go scene by scene, destroying it, but every time I look at the computer, I get that bliss. You know, the one after you read a book, but multiply it by a hundred. A satiated sigh escapes my lips, and I just want to roll over in bed and pull out my stogie, smoking it up as I take in the awesomeness that is me.
Don’t take this the wrong way. I understand I left a sloppy mess next to me, exhausted and shivering. But being an author is like being the lover a woman truly deserves: now I go back and cuddle. I talk to her and ask how her day was. I even offer to change the sheets or switch places if things really got out of hand. I know that my manuscript and I are not entirely satisfied and that there’s more than the marathon literary sex known as NaNoWriMo. As we were told in Theology class, sex is a very small part of a relationship. I need to find out what she likes and take her out to dinner. I need to massage the scenes into perfection and gaze upon her each night like it’s the first so I can fully understand where the magic comes from. The words can’t lose their passion. The thoughts can’t lose their originality. I can’t lose my vigor.
But baby, I need to finish things with my last lover. I jumped into bed for an amazing month, but K&A wearing the ring. She’s over 100,000 words, and will likely be over 110,000 when our romance is concluded. Sure the steps are usually the same. Now and then I come home with fresh ideas and new words, the fire sweeping over us once more, but the sessions for editing are the same steps over and over again. We know each other inside and out, how to push each other’s buttons, how to fight and apologize, how to make love and how to loathe each other. The cycle is there and will continue until I can finally tell her “Sweetheart, it’s over. We’ve done what we can for each other, and it’s time for me to release you into the world. Goodbye.”
Watching my niece and nephew has really helped revitalize K&A, though. My baby scenes had been lacking, but playing dad has helped. As my parents and siblings abandoned me, they handed me my niece and said “Here you go. Oh, and watch your nephew, too. He’s running around somewhere.” I finally changed diapers on my own. My godchild (nephew) realized I was out of my league, so he helped me. He took off his diaper (after I got him on the table, or this is actually a tragedy) and then helped put on the new one. He’s two.
I told my niece a story at bedtime. Just made it up based on her pajamas. She rode a pink elephant, made a turtle friend, and had to cross a bridge past a lion. The turtle, a trusted adviser, said to give him up to the lion. Soon the turtle came back because the lion couldn’t eat him. I want to be a dad. So so badly. That or to live near my niece and nephew so I could see them almost daily. Because of these moments, I have a much better idea of the scenes involving Kelst and Ayne’s babies, which were pretty much glossed over previously.
Perhaps that’s the love I need with K&A now. I need the love of a mature father who can no longer throw everything up into the air. He can no longer love wildly and with abandon, but must be nurturing and caring. The great part about being an author is I can still have an affairs and no one judges.
In the coming days, I really plan on hitting how I’m editing. My bachelor pad is set up with three stations for me to edit at. One will be for note cards to keep track of people and places. Another will be for my map so I can sketch that out to give me a concrete country. The final will be the station where I have my copy and laptop set up to actually write the edits. So look forward to that or dread it.
I pray your NaNo is looking good. Tomorrow is it. Write like the world will blow up. Either way, awesome work and love your manuscript with all you are. If you do, she’ll love you back just as hard and you’ll definitely be changing the sheets before bed, no matter how long you were actually able to stick around.
How do you feel after finishing a book or novel? Can you cheat on them or do you remain committed? If you do other artistic endeavors, how do you feel after finishing those?
...like butta' on your toast!
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