Before you scold me for abandoning you for a full year, let me first say that I missed you! I’m not trying to butter you up. I really did. Yes, absence does make the heart grow fonder.
I was honest with you. I told you on in my last entry to you that I was temporarily leaving you for another form of writing—a year-long novel writing program. Maybe you would have been willing to share me, but alas, my energy was too depleted to court two of you.
Please don’t be jealous. One of the things I’ve learned about myself is that I am not a one-project kind of gal. Let’s face it; I was never monogamous with you. While I dutifully gave you two thoughtful entries a month, I was also quite serious about my three novels and even dabbled in the odd short story, flash fiction, or (cough) poem. Each one met a different need and contributed to my overall happiness. You do want me to be happy, don’t you? If you recall, our last date on June 14th, 2011, focused on happiness. As excited as I was about my new venture, the Grub Street Novel Incubator program, I expressed some doubts then about the kind of singlemindedness it would require.
I am proud to have stuck with it, to have learned and accomplished so much, to have made the acquaintance of so many fine writing colleagues, and to have enjoyed myself. But after the program was over, I needed a break from "Best Seller," my hot and heavy romance of the last year. I couldn't even bring myself to look at it. I felt guilty—we’d been with each other day in and day out. I’m pretty sure we’ll be lovers again, but not for awhile. Does that make you feel better? Perhaps you will be a beneficiary of that liaison. I hope I have become a better writer and editor. You may even gain some readers
And I’ve come home to you. I feel confident that you and I have something solid. It’s regular, but we don’t overdo it. There’s mutual respect. You let me express myself in a way none of the others have. I can talk about anything with you whenever I want. And when we’re finished with one topic, there is that satisfying sense of closure. Not the nagging doubt those demanding, pesky, never-ending novels give me. Yet, I am drawn back to them. Remember, it’s me, not you. I’ll introduce you if you like.
If you are confident enough to let me mix it up with them, I think you and I will be friends for a very long time. What do you say? Can we give it another shot? I have a dandy idea inspired by a funeral I just attended. Who else will let me share my thoughts, without judgment? If you say “no,” I may have to throw myself at the mercy of “Twitter.”
Yours faithfully,
Musings from the Third Half
