Sunday, June 21, 2015
One year ago today...
...I sat down on the bridge by the creek, took my pen and wrote the very first words of the first novel I'd ever write. That was the day the dream began.
Well, not exactly. If we want to get technical, the idea sprouted on June 15th, when I scribbled a few words in my notebook about an 'Aunt Isabelle' who drove a stylish roadster and came to visit each year on Mama's birthday. I had no idea then where I'd go with it; those words ruminated there on the page until a few days afterward, when I penned the first few pages of what is now the largest-scale project I've ever written, my masterpiece, the best thing that's ever come out of me. One year ago.
...And one year later, it's still not finished. Three-hundred-and-fifteen pages later, it's still not finished. But it's coming, and deep-down, it's there. It's all there in my heart, and now all I need to do is breath the words onto paper; bring my soul's feelings into words that can be seen and understood; make my story reach its fullest extent. I'm trying not to get ahead of myself. It's coming, but it's not there yet.
So I just wanted to commemorate this day, because it's very special to me. The day I really became a writer, you could say...even though I guess I always was one, all along.
P.S. It's also Father's Day! I love you, Daddy. :-) Thanks for being a hard worker, and watching westerns with me, and letting me name the animals after Lonesome Dove characters, and for making me laugh.