I feel in love. It's been a long time since I've fallen so heavily, but this relationship has been making my heart pump for about two months.
It was unexpected. I didn't go looking for it. It just happened. My author friends write about such things, but I wan't looking for romance, or any of the complications that come with it.
Before anyone panics, let me assure you that Steve is tolerating the relationship and at the moment it isn't threatening our marriage. You see the object of my affection is my current WOP, work in progress. Yes, that's right. I've fallen in love with a book!
It took me several weeks to realise what had happened. But the evidence is too compelling to deny. After we spend three or four hours in intimate contact, my heart is racing, sometimes for two hours. When I meet friends for coffee, all I want to talk about is the book and its beloved characters. I have to stop myself raving on about how wonderful my new love is.
The final proof of this infatuation is the rose coloured glasses. In my eyes, my love is wonderful, beautiful, perfect in every way. At my age this is ridiculous. I should know better. If one of my grandchildren started raving on in such a manner about their new beau, I would be very nervous.
I took my self to task and demanded I reread the entire book and uncover all the blemishes. Then I must read it again. What a joy it has been. I spend hours a day changing a word here and there, ironing out every spot and wrinkle. And falling deeper in love as I discover new wonders and depths that I hadn't noticed before. Yes, I know. I created this book but little things seemed to have crept in and they are a delight to behold. This passion has become so bad that I don't want to go out. Interruptions annoy me, and I'm usually a people person.
Wow is me! What shall I do?
By biggest concern is that in my blindness, I will introduce my great love to my friends and acquaintances before it's ready. What if my family of readers see flaws that I've missed. What if they can't see the quiet beauty and the passionate heart. If they reject my book, we will both be embarrassed.
So, taking my heart in my hands, I asked one of my two early readers for constructive feedback.
Cautiously she agreed. 'I'm concerned about the time line.'
I went into defense mode. 'No, the time line is good. It's all charted. I've even worked out the seasons and the phases of the moon.'
'But, why did they take five months to...'
I changed the subject. 'What did you think of.....'
Ah, yes. It felt better to talk about the interesting scenes. After all, who worries about the inconsequential things like time?
This morning at 4.15 am, reality crashed through my sleep. It was as though someone stole the rose colored glasses. My beloved book isn't perfect. In fact it has several major flaws. These problems will require major surgery to fix. How disappointing. I thought it was perfect.
However, there is good news. I have spent all morning with my beloved WOP. My pulse is racing, my heart leaping.
Did I happen to tell you that I'm in love, in love with 'El Shaddai'.