A few years ago I wrote a story. I love this story, but I’ve turned into those crazy moms you hear about in the horrifying section of the newspaper. You know those titles,
Woman releases 24 year old daughter after 20 years in basement.
Yep, that’s me! My poor story is locked up on my computer, gathering cyber dust.
I’ve walked through bookstores, picking out the perfect location for my story, imagined the young people in the aisles reaching out for it, wondering what hidden treasures lay inside and finding a friend. Finding someone just like them hidden in the pages.
The world is too cynical! How do I let my poor little baby out into the viciousness that is publishing? Where editors with scimitars slash indiscriminately, leaving huge holes for me to fill with new ideas, new plot lines, new characters. How can I mourn the loss of a character I’ve loved into existence.
I’m an overprotective mommy. I’m trying to let go. But it is sooooooooo hard.
The other reason I’m holding on is I want to send him out with his sister. Girls are stronger anyway and she can protect his fragile little ego (and mine) and catch some of the characters that fall out of his pages.
So in the next few weeks I’m going to do what I have to do to let my baby out into the World. Hopefully, he will grow into a wonderful man, mature in the brash World, finding his way into bookshelves and making a home in hearts everywhere.