This might be the quickest bounce back in history.
I've decided to write a novel. Now, I really thought I would sell the memoir first then perhaps a collection of essays and that way, buy myself the time to write novels. I wanted to enjoy the process. Having to write a novel, being forced to write one simply to see if that is my avenue into publishing drained any anticipation. Walking with Jane and the dogs yesterday afternoon, I was telling her about the novel I planned to write and I said, "I have the title and the characters but no idea of plot or theme. There is no fire in my belly for this book."
When I arrived home, I learned there had been a minor yet upsetting incident for Dwayne involving his estranged, and strange, daughter who, upon driving by with her boyfriend and children, had proceeded to flip the bird at him. Such trailer trash. If you cut someone out of your life, the classy thing to do is simply ignore. To give him the finger? I am very glad she is out of our life; we didn't need such a toxic person around.
But by god, that was the spark! Not for the book that I was telling Jane about (will leave that for future) but for one called "The Lies She Told" based on the events of the past summer, the events put in motion by this awful daughter of Dwayne's (who is simply the next generation of her mother, his ex-wife). Oh, sweet revenge served cold! The whole damn book has been sitting in my head for a couple of months; at my full-day cleaning job, I had to take a break and write down a whole bunch of ideas -- including the ending -- for this novel. Last night, I sat down right after supper and wrote the prologue.
Oh, the fire is burning, baby. All this stuff I avoided journalling because it was so awful, so orchestrated by one bitter, faithless, narcissistic ex-wife will now have its release and I don't have to relive it per se. It will be for the noblest of causes and the best thing is that when it's fiction, I get to make stuff up and change things so no one will be able to sue me. No scores will be settled, no truth will be revealed; just a wonderful source of inspiration, a story I need to get out of my system in the best way I know.
As my mother says, "Don't these people remember you're a writer?" And Mum was here for the whole fabricated drama; she is the best eyewitness to act as my editor and main critic. Yeah, she's tough, too.
As for the memoir, I have contacted the editor who helped me over the hump last year to work with me on my query letter and proposal. That book will still get pitched only now my entire dream of writing books full-time is not hinging on something as precarious and potentially insurmountable as "the market. Because that's what I realized while driving to work this morning: If I don't write another book, if I simply let everything ride on this memoir that no one, so far, has taken on because "the market is tough", that means the end of the dream. If I want that dream badly enough, I must do whatever it takes to make it happen. Ergo, this book I will write. Sometimes you're thrown through a door whether it opens or not!
This means, of course, that for the next six months, I will be an even worse correspondent! FB and this blog, folks, will let you know I'm alive. But it will be worth it in so many ways. Trust me. We're in for a ride on this one!