welcome to magicland

There is something so wonderful about writing the first draft part of a new novel. It's like the honeymoon phase of a relationship.  So far, all the characters are intensely interesting to me, the setting is breathing, and I feel so completely happy you could tie me up with the ribbon and give me away for Christmas.  I had to stop to do my copyedits for Breathe, which were hard not just because I had to really focus and make sure everything was the way I wanted, but because I had to re-enter that story-world--and that is like seeing an old lover again and still feeling in love but also knowing that truly,  you have to move on.

Writers are very lucky people, I think.  I wanted to be a writer since I was in first grade, and I remember when I sold my first short story, to the Michigan Quarterly Review, I got myself a T-shirt that said WRITER on it, cut out the neck (that's what you do in ballet class) and wore it to the studio all that year. I was so proud and excited!  (No one really cared.  They all wanted to be dancers.) But I cared, and every pirouette I made (I admit I could do four!  Count them!  Four!) I felt more like a writer than a dancer, and I swear that made me spin.

Now, I can't do more than one sloppy pirouette and my toe shoes are a thing of the past.  But put me in front of a computer or a piece of paper, and I feel as if I'm home.