How To Throw Away A Perfectly Good Husband
I thought the title was going to be an introduction to this blog. Turns out—no. As I put my fingertips to the keys, I’m not sure what’s going to sprinkle across the page. I already wrote one blog on this topic, shared with you some personal stuff about being a paranormal romance novelist, a nomad, and a divorcee.
For those of you who aren’t detectives: I didn’t post it. Instead, I got hit by my techie-gremlin again. What’s a techie-gremlin, you wonder? A snag in my computer experience that behaves like a sentient being. You think my toast has fallen peanut butter side down, don’t you? Probably it has, but there’s no denying the existence of this something. It’s like Jiminy Cricket hovering over my shoulder, only he has a magic wand to halt the internet. Every time I’ve tried to post something that later bit me on the ass, my techie-gremlin tried to interfere.
He popped in again with the last post I wanted to publish about throwing away a perfectly good husband. I was having no problems navigating, playing, or adjusting my blog until I hit “publish.” I tried it several times, had success with other functions, browsed around on the internet, and returned to re-post. Nada.
So, given this has happened too many times to ignore, I sat back and wondered if I shouldn’t be airing detes about my marriage. Or, if it’s all right to blab, maybe I need to rephrase things. For our purposes this time, I’m only going to publish the stuff I wrote about writing. So, release your breath, here it is:
… (this follows what the techie-gremlin didn’t want me to share.)So, I stepped off my porch. And I stepped. Until the individual steps became a walk, one which got increasingly easier as I gained momentum, as I felt the titillation of freedom only the open road can give.
Of course, the first book I ever wrote told so much about myself it was practically a personality profile. Living vicariously through my characters? Hell, yes. I did a lot of running and exploring out on the Great Heath of my home town, which is where my first novel began. Did I hope to be thrown a lifeline in the form a sexy wolf-man? Oh, my, who wouldn’t? The people who knew me and read the book, Luna: Book One of The Luna Chronicle, wondered if the reason I ran on the heath everyday was because I did have a wolf-man out there.
They weren’t far off in their suspicions. Writing the book was an adventure in escapism, so every time I headed out to the bog, Luna and her supporting characters came with me. As I ventured through the wind-stunted forests like a white-tailed deer, events in the storyline unfolded. By the time my lungs were wheezing, I was ready to return to the box of my house and sketch my imagined world to life: once written upon the page, Luna-Beth’s world became real.
Little did I know then that Beth’s leaving everything behind to follow her wolf-man would presage my own experience (minus the wolf-man, boo-hiss!). Like my title character, I could no longer stay in a world where I just didn’t fit.
My husband—bless his understanding heart for a thousand years to come—stayed behind while I traipsed forward, armed only with my intuition, a bit of courage, and raw faith that readers would love my characters as much as I do.
Later, I’ll try again to share the madness behind my motivation. Here’s hoping I can. In the meantime, keep in mind that the title for this blog is more appropriate than the dress code at a Catholic school. I really did throw away a perfectly good husband when I set out to discover more of the world and my place in it. Maybe you’ve done the same. If so, I’d love to hear from you. Who knows, maybe a little dialogue will lull Jiminy Cricket and his magic wand to sleep. Winks!