Have you ever started a project for the love of it, got bored of it, then suffered through an identity crisis when you realized you might not love it after all? That’s what happened to me. I have always enjoyed writing, so you would think I would love to journal. So I tried. Then I tried again. Then I tried again…You get the idea.
“What’s wrong with me?” I thought. “I love to write, so this should be a piece of cake! This should feel like play!”
Yeah, it didn’t. It felt like torture. Maybe it would have been fun if I lived the life of a pop star, a jet-setting millionaire, or even just one of those cool hipster moms who can make homemade bread while teaching her children morse code and taking a conference call. That’s most assuredly not me (I can’t even manage to open my mail, for God’s sake!), so journalling kind of made me feel like a pathetic loser, if I’m being honest.
One day, I stared at the blank page of my journal, and decided I had nothing interesting to say (again), so I flipped back the pages of my life. I went back and back again to read previous entries. As I read my thoughts and descriptions of different chapters of my life, my imagination started taking over.
Two words kept ringing in my ear: “What if…”
When reading about my educational journey, I asked myself, “What if I went for that doctorate after all, instead of sticking with the master’s?”
When reading about my thoughts about my father, I asked, “What if he survived that aneurism? How would my life have been different?”
When reading about my grief over the passing of my husband, fully convinced I would never love another man again, I asked, “But what if I met another version of him? Could I love again?”
It reminded me of Sliding Doors. In the movie, the life of the main character takes on two completely different paths, all based on a single, simple decision that started a butterfly effect in her life. We all make these decisions, whether knowingly or unknowingly, of course. To get the PhD or stick with a master’s? To get on the motorcycle or not? To take job A or job B? To leave for work early or late? To sell the company or try to stick it out through the hard times? To eat the chicken or the beef (or the tofu)?
The questions went on and on, and before I knew it, my journaling took a completely different turn. I took aspects of my life and flipped and altered and smooshed and fine-tuned until it morphed into fiction.
In the novel, I wrote a completely fictional version of myself and the story developed a life of its own.
What fun it is to play with a different sort of me! What a blast to turn people who have influenced my life into characters I can give life to in a different way! Such freedom! Each time I asked, “What if…,” the storyline developed a new turn. It kept pouring out of me faster and faster and faster until, all of a sudden, I had drafted three novels and was not even close to done yet. OK, the draft of book four is almost done, too, but not quite.
Now, I know what you’re going to ask me next. You’re going to say, “Liz, that’s super cool! Where can I buy fifty copies of your amazing book?” Sheesh! I mean, I’m honored and everything, but I’m not published yet so hold your horses! (Your enthusiasm really does mean the world to me, though, so thanks for that.)
I gave myself a year (now it’s more like eight months) to polish up book one (never written a novel before, after all) and find representation. I know my weaknesses (they are many) and know that I need help with all the…um…other stuff involved in being a writer. And, just to prove how little I understand, ask me a question about what it takes to market and sell a novel and you will hear crickets chirping. They will be adorable crickets, but crickets nonetheless. And even if I did understand (I am an excellent student, so I could learn), I have crap organizational skills so I would never be able to keep on top of all of it. Just keeping it real, people!
In the meantime, I will post excerpts and other nuggets here on my new blog for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!
Love, Liz
