Crying Over Prose

You will think I’m crazy after reading this.

Yesterday as I plodded through my novel (sequel to Watching the Tree Limbs), I came to a scene I didn’t expect. That’s how I write. I’m what I call an organic novelist. A story comes to me as I type. Though I know where I’m headed, I don’t always know how I will get there. Writing that way makes it an adventure.

So, I came upon this scene and an unexpected character turned up, doing unexpected things. The character gave something intangible to my main character, something I’ve longed for personally. So I sat there and cried, wanting something my character received. So, yes, in a strange way, I envied my character. I told you you’d think I was crazy.

It’s been a joy to write this book. (Ask me again, though, when I get my edits.) Still, I feel like I’ve learned so much, that this book’s an improvement over the last. That’s part of the joy of writing–seeing improvement as I grow.

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