So it’s official. The real deal. I sent out the contract. The contract for the DD. (Can you believe I am still whining about this? Can you? I can’t. I CAN’T!) All that paperwork is headed to Macmillan. And I’ve signed the paperwork. And now I have to do it. I have to DO IT. I’m shaking myself at this whole thing.
This week seems like it will be the perfect week for a girl who has to get a novel done. But I’m not so sure. All my daughters are headed off to camp which means I will be alone (except for my Killer Dog.). By myself. The house quiet, no one running in to ask if they can use the computer or watch TV or whatever. Just one at my feet who will be hoping I’ll throw the tennis ball with her. And I will. (But I won’t like it. Spit. Ick! Wait, is it spit if it’s from a Killer Dog? Hmmm.)
The thing is–and I think you all already know this, I like my family. I like them around. I don’t like to be alone. So.
So so so.
Sew buttons on your underwear.
“Hey, what you’re saying makes no sense.”
“Shut up! I know this is disjointed. It’s too early for anything else, ding dang it.”
So can I do it all by myself? Get the writing done?
This is, after all, my test–of sorts.
For two reasons.
One: Obvious schmobvious. I have this signed contract now. The Done Deal. The New Done Deal. For heaven’s sake, I could have a theme park built, fashioned after my DD. And I have four days with the girls playing somewhere else.
Two: One day my girls will grow up and leave me. I’ll be all alone. Two already have. And these next three–well, two of the three have boyfriend types. That leaves Carolina who said to me the other day, “Mom, did you know that pretty soon it’s just going to be you and me?” I didn’t spank her for saying that. But I was shocked at her words. After the others go, well, you know, that means Nina will find someone. [I told her that he has to be tall, good-looking and way nice. She just looked at me. Stuck her tongue behind her braces rubber band and tried to shoot it (the band, not her tongue) across the room. At 12, she’s not that interested in guys. And anyway, she gets to see lots of cute [and not-so-cute] boys wander through here.] But last night–this is good–one wanna be BF brought his cute younger brother–a year older than Carolina–when he came for a visit.
And this leads me to something else.
I’ve been watching it around here. A lot. For years now. And I know why it’s good to have it in our books. This is compelling stuff. I will just say that these boys, all of my daughters boyfriends (wanna be or tried and true), are very good-looking. Even the 13-yr old from last night was cute. This helps the plot, as far as I’m concerned. One is a rugby player. One is a skate boarder. One is in love and can’t get my daughter to see that he’s devoted to her. Is that a novel or what? Oh my gosh, it so is.
It’s something my DD needs. More romance. I have some, you see, but not enough. And I know I want to get main girl and main guy together. And I know that main guy likes someone else. And I know how to get rid of THAT girl (this is a dystopian novel–you guess how she’s removed. I’ll give you a hint. It won’t be pretty.). But then how do I get him over his old love and kissing on the main girl? Hmmm? (Darn it! I do know how to do this. More pages. I’m just not sure what words to put on those pages.)
So–I was talking to Alane Ferguson a while back. If you don’t know Alane, you should. She’s great. Anyway, she says to me,”Stephenie Meyer is a genius.”
I won’t tell you my response.
“Do you know what she does in these books of hers?”
I won’t tell you what I said to that, either.
“She has a love triangle. Isn’t that brilliant?”
(I can say this next part.) “Alane. It’s a romance novel. Of course there’s a love triangle.”
“No, you don’t understand. She likes two boys (or whatever they are) and they both like her back. Isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that a good idea?”
“That’s a romance novel idea. Ro-mance. Haven’t you ever read a romance novel?”
But she hadn’t. Not until the you-know-what series. Ca-razy!
My point, though, is that romance is a good thing.
And so is time alone–maybe.
All I have to do is work steadily (ahahaha) and fix my love triangle.