I put a quote on my FB page yesterday: "Rejection isn't failure. Failure is giving up." (Richard Castle). I like the part about not giving up which is what I do best. But a friend saw it and thought something had happened and she scurried over here to see if I'd written about it.
No, everything is fine. I just like the remember, a la Winston Churchill, to never ever ever give up.
That's not to say things can't be adjusted, however.
Instead of the heavy weight of a thousand words a day, I am aiming to write about 5,000 a week and planning to have at least 50,000 words written by the end of June. If it's more, great. Otherwise, I'm not going to enjoy this new adventure of writing fiction if all I feel is pressure every day, especially when I still have a column to produce each week. Once I hit my stride, which I haven't yet -- hence writing on the blog at 11 o'clock in the morning-- I will find it easier to write this story; 1,000 words is only 4 pages; in stride, I can do twice that but only if I know what's happening on each page. I'm struggling with the beginning in part because I don't have the plot fully developed, as in the order of events. I have the destination and the passengers but the road map is not clear enough.
But that's no reason not to write something so off I go. Good or bad writing, it doesn't matter because it's the draft. Just as long as it's four pages.

I have the first 3,000 words of my book written so it has begun. 3,000 is the number I need for the submission to the program I want to take this fall so that feels like a first step accomplished. If I don't write another word, I can still apply to the program!
Here are my writing companions doing what they do best:

For those of you without Facebook, the link to my commentary in today's Sunday Herald:

http://thechronicleherald.ca/thenovascotian/753282-ignorance-not-bliss-dealing-with-alzheimer-s-patients-requires-compassion

I am very proud of my husband.
He is in excruciating pain and not sleeping much, if at all, because of it yet he is on the phone every day, calling the people who are supposed to be helping him. He is the squeaky wheel and he does it even though he's not operating with all spokes (in a due-to-pain-and-exhaustion kind of way!).
In January, he was told six to eight weeks.
In early February, he was told end of March.
In late February, he was told end of April.
Are you frikkin' kidding me??
His arm is getting worse; now he's experiencing pain and reduced function in his thumb. He's really worried he's going to lose the use of his right arm. Let me tell you, we need an income from him; we can't live on my part-time community newspaper salary. He knows that so I'm sure that's just another worry for him on top of everything else.
I did sell a commentary to the Halifax newspaper that should be in this Sunday's paper so that was a highlight. Doesn't pay a dollar a word but it does pay.
And even with that, my natural optimism reasserts itself. I must keep at my writing and keep the hope that good news will come to Dwayne shortly. Maybe March will be our magical month.

Who knew working for a small weekly community newspaper would land me a gig as a community correspondent on TV?
My two minutes of fame: Me, this morning talking about two events happening in the Oxford area this weekend.

For my niece and nephews, a funny face on TV:

Three signs: 

Spirituality & Health turned down my pitch for an article on the spirituality of Alzheimer's, which if published would have been very good re: memoir; when I started dusting at Al's house on Thursday, the elephant - the one who got me published in an anthology - was, for the first time in nearly two years, facing the opposite direction in the window sill; and the information about the ex-wife which served to fan up the embers of the novel. 

PLUS: 

More magazine Canada stopped publishing last December and Reader's Digest is declaring bankruptcy for the second time in three and a half years; I'd had stories under consideration at both of those magazines.  

So:

Pretty clear my freelance writing career is drying up. Not all my fault but I've never been stellar at selling articles. Not really the "service article" type. So all those signs, particularly the elephant, were making it very clear: Go in a new direction. 

Write the novel. 

But I've been avoiding that because I've been reluctant to allow the "villain" voice to bloom in my mind. Since she's based on the ex-wife, I worried about what it would do to me to have her in my head. I figured there'd have to be a nightly exorcism. 

That, however, was counter-productive to my plans to fulfill the dream of writing books full-time so my to-do list for the weekend included writing the first "Alice" chapter. At ten o'clock last night, I finally did it. I plunked my butt down at the dining room table, opened up the notebook I've been making copious notes in and did what writers do: I put the pen on the paper and let go. The voice flowed right out of me clear and true.  Not the least bit scary, not the least bit clingy. 

Yet another example of how fear keeps us from moving forward, and that wasn't really a big fear, either. 

When I crawled into bed much later than usual but feeling pleased with myself, I said to Dwayne, "Writing this novel is going to be fun." 

After four years of writing and revising a serious non-fiction novel, I deserve some fun.  Let the revenge fun begin!

I can't put this on my Facebook page because I refuse to give in to the temptation to use it for personal statements no matter how disguised as insight into a writer's mind.
But I don't have that issue here so this is what I'd like to post:

-- The most boring character an author can put in a book is an ex-wife who hasn't moved on. Whether she was the one who was left or she was the one who did the leaving, if she can't get over it, if she still wants that man, that life back, she's a boring character. No way to make her interesting. Now, an ex-wife who is the villain in a book, now that's good because villains are always interesting.--

That is so tempting...but even veiled as writing commentary, it's still too obvious and I won't give them the satisfaction of thinking they are bugging us. What they want is a reaction and so far, for eight months, non-confrontation and non-response has stymied them and I'd like that continue. Never, ever give the narcissists what they want.
What has prompted this is learning that last month, Dwayne's ex-wife phoned his sister out of the blue, after years without contact, to "fill her in" on everything that has been going on (!?). She opened the conversation by asking so many "Have you spoken to your parents?" and "Have they said anything about what's going on?" type of questions that the sister wondered if she was being taped. When Dwayne's sister finally asked, "Why are you calling me?", the ex replied that she wanted advice: "What do I do about Dwayne?"

Aaaaargh.
If this was a soap opera, I'd be calling her and reminding her that he's not her husband, that the kids are grown up and if she'd been a good mother, they would sort out their own problems without her interference, and he's bloody well not the problem, she is and because of that, her daughter is, so it's more than time to let go and get on with your own damn life since you left this one for another man ten years ago.
But this is real life so my pen is mightier than a phone call (and despite what the daughter thinks, mightier than Facebook too).