Before I was published

Before I was published, I used to be able to sit down and write for hours. Just write and write and write.  Oh sure, most of it was probably, if you'll excuse the word, crap.  I had an amazing critique group and they would take my work and show me how I could fix it. I learned so much and I would just type for hours. Broke a good lap-top typing so hard. The keyboard fell apart beneath my fingers. 

Now, I spend more time doing other 'writing' things than actually writing.  Promotion, which I know readers hear a lot about from authors, takes a lot of time. I don't mind it that much but every blog post I write is time spent not writing something new.  

My kids are older, which takes up more time, not less, since they need me in different ways and for different things.  

But my ability to go for hours at the keyboard has lessoned. I'm acutely aware of every word I write. If I don't like a sentence I don't keep going. I stop until its right. I can spend all day on one page.  I wondered today where the Rebecca I was on the keyboard had disappeared to.  I'm a better writer now, just not quite the producer I once was. 

That's okay. I'm going to stop here now and get back to doing it. I finished a chapter on my super secret project today.  Chapter two is calling my name. 

A Million Years

My middle son, out of the blue, asked me tonight if I could live to be a million years old so he and I (and then he quickly added Daddy too) could always be together.  I hugged him and told him a lie, which is that I will always be with him as long as he needs me.  It is the same story my own mother told me as a child and for which I got comfort during times when I worried about such things. And I worried a lot.  I had this idea that even though I knew and understood that no one could really know the time of their death, that she somehow did have some sort of foretold knowledge that she would be with me as long as I needed her and therefore would never leave, never die.  This had to hold true for my father as well because (and yes this is how my mind worked as a child and still does sometimes...) the fact that daddy lived in the house with us meant that a nuclear bomb could never go off in NYC when I was sleeping. He just seemed that tough. (We lived very close to NYC...)

My father's amazing ability to stop nuclear bombs and my mother's future telling abilities aside, I had to look away from my son tonight when he'd moved on from his questions because my eyes were filled with tears. I remembered what that felt like.  This tremendous wish that my parents should never leave me, should never die and leave me alone until I demanded of them a promise that I, now as an adult, know they could not truly make.  And yet they did and it helped me.  Sometimes, I still want to ask my mother never to die but as a grown-up mother of 3 I leave the question buried deep inside where it can haunt only me.

Because I know, having lost my father-in-law a little over a year ago, that we are all very very mortal.  And I wish I could make that promise to my middle guy--who is so tough on the outside and so soft in his core and the only one of my three children to ever ask me such a thing--that I will never leave him.  Because I want that, too. A million years. And always together.

Right now, I'm working on 3 different projects. One is super secret and I can't discuss it yet. But the other is a Warrior novel and I have to say I'm very pleased with it.  The third? I'm actually trying my hand at screen writing. Don't get too excited, I've only written 3 pages. I may throw the whole thing out.

I hope all is well with you and I promise to blog more now that I'm settled.