I am so amazed at how my fingers always seem to have it more together than I do. I mean, yesterday was the first day of November, and I knew that I had to get busy writing a novel for NaNoWriMo, BUT I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO WRITE ABOUT.
I had been praying to God for several days to inspire me with a plot for this new novel or even just a few words to get started, and still no lightbulb had gone off (no dumb blonde jokes, okay?). I woke up bright and early, wasted time on Facebook, checked email and sent the kids off to school; then I had to go to the dentist. I bemoaned myself Sunday night for making an appointment to get my teeth cleaned on the day after Halloween, but since it was the first day of NaNoWriMo I decided to go. I told the dentist and hygenist what I would be doing this month and when they asked me what I was writing about, I really had no clue yet.
"We'll see," I said. "I'm not really sure yet."
They both looked at me perplexed. I was even beginning to doubt my own capabilities. I usually had something in mind, at least when I have written books before, which I have. The first one is based on my life written in third person so that nobody will know it's about me (in case the kids should read it). That was my very first book, written after confiding in a friend about my crazy, demented past.
"Wow! You should write a book," she had said when I was done talking. I mean how many people can have all that happen to them before they turn thirty?
And so the seed was planted. I wrote and wrote, relived the past, poured hours over this project and finished it; but I was too shy to share it with anyone. Until Mary, that is. She read the whole book word for word, and we sat in amazement as we compared how similar our pasts had been. And then she died, and my book has been sitting in a drawer for nearly three years.
The other book I've written (but not completed) began when I was taking a class from Lamar's Continuing-Ed department. We were given a prompt and I took off on that one, baby. That's when I knew my fingers were messengers of God. I mean, where did this stuff come from? Part of the reason I've sat on it for so long is that I am in FEAR. The topic has become so complex and unbelievable that thoughts of the children reading it are too much to bear. What will they think of their sweet old mommy? I guess I'll have to use a pen name or something. I know how I want it to end, but am not sure when I want to end. This story will remain shelved for a bit longer.
So now I am embarking on this third book. Thankfully, a thought inspired me sometime after lunch yesterday and I went to bed having written 1,697 words AND a poem for the Poem-A-Day Challenge (see my other blog, Conversation With Laurie). I spent a great amount of time this morning working on it, took a break for lunch and chores, and am now procrastinating again. At least I'll know when my fingers are ready to begin again.