In a psychological writing exercise, I pretended to be my manuscript and wrote a love letter to myself, making a plea not to be abandoned.
Today, I responded to my own letter and realized that one of the first times I wrote about my current novel's concept was at my grandpa's funeral. While I sat at his funeral, one of the things that kept me from adding to the overflow of tears was thoughts about my childhood. Right then and there I started writing a story in my head about a young woman in her mid-20s being visited by her crush at her grandfather's funeral.
When the crush visits the home of the young girl they start reminiscing about their childhood in the 90s and from there the story takes form.
didn't know what the plot was going to be about, and, if there is any consolation, I still don't. Why? Well, it's because I'm pretty sure it's going to change again. It's going to go through yet another rewrite. But this time, I'm not going to dread it. I'm going to take my time. There's no rush, especially when you want something right. I'm okay with this and am pretty excited for this new courtship.
Once I get the remodeled site up and running, I'll post that writing exercise, also known as my love letters. I can't believe it really helped me the way it did.
My goodness what a difference a day makes!