When Life Gets Rough, Live In Your Novel

So after a melancholy morning, in which I moped about a guy, my daughter arrived home, super happy to see me. The second I embraced her my spirits lifted. The first thing she wanted to do was go to the pool so we did. I was happy to, I needed the vitamin D for a little boost of joy. We spent the rest of the afternoon making spaghetti (her favorite), eating popsicles, and reading stories. Every time she’s gone for more than a day she comes home with so many new words. I read her The Story of Little Babaji and when the tiger puts shoes on his ears, she tells me,

“Mommy, that’s bizarre!” She’s such a cheeky little thing. I’m so proud of her. I put her to sleep reading aloud Nights in Rodanthe, my latest Nicholas Sparks novel. I finished it and I was bawling. It’s such a beautiful story and of course it reminded me so much of my long distance relationship with Basil. He’d be in Dubai, on a completely different day, finding new ways to write and tell me he loved me.

Of course, this gave me fuel to start writing. I wrote ELEVEN pages last night! I mean, I was lost in my story, smiling like I was really there experiencing life through my characters eyes. When I was tired, I printed the pages and edited them in bed. I love paper and the editing process. For me, it’s so romantic with a gel pen and a mug full of Earl Grey, the scratchy sounds of my Rod Stewart album playing softly in the background.

I woke this morning smiling because I was proud of myself and excited to start again. As much as I miss sex and especially romance… the act of making love and the satisfaction of resting in his arms after hours of desire and need… okay I lost my train of thought…

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Only joking! Honestly though, as much as I miss being with someone I truly adore, I don’t want to rush the process. If I can keep writing like this, I could finish this novel in less than two months. Dates with these random guys are usually just a waste of time. I get free dinners, mediocre conversation and half-hearted good night kisses. That’s time I could have spent writing and accomplishing, I dunno, my goal in life.

I think this thing with Mr. Robinson really got to me because it’s been so long since I’ve made love to a man. Unlike any of the dates I’ve been on, I’d already made a place for him in my heart & all I could think about were the many things I’d let that man do to me when we made it back to his hotel room. There were so many moments in our past where he’d corner me and whisper these hot things in my ear. Something about a fireplace and I don’t quite remember, but I do remember thinking he was the kind of guy who, if I let him, would pick me up and press me against a wall… I cannot let my hormones dictate my feelings. I don’t really know Mr. Robinson anymore so if this fizzles and dies, it’s seriously no big deal. I’ve got to remember this.

 

As for now, I have a novel to write, a daughter to raise and did I mention I have a night job? I’ve got plenty to keep me busy while I wait for my Paul Flanner (that’s a Rodanthe reference, so get hip;P).

 

 

 

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