Twenty years ago, I wrote “a thing.” I poured my heart into my computer in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia has a productive side once in a while.
Two years ago, sitting in the warmth of my new retired life, I revisited the cobwebs of my hard drive and began working to morph that therapy-on-screen into a novel that others might read and get something out of. I wrote, edited, revised. I asked my husband to read random chapters along the way and give me feedback – (Thank you, Stephen!) This led to more revisions. I workshopped the book for eighteen months with my writers’ group. (Thank you, Penpointers!) More editing and revising. I hired a professional editor to give the first draft a deep once-over. (Thank you, Laura Mahal!) Whew! More edits and revisions. Then Beta Readers got to evaluate the book and give me their comments. (Thank you, Jeff and Julie!) Guess what? More edits and revisions. WOW! (Why didn’t I just take up knitting?!)
Finally, I had a draft I hoped was publisher-worthy.
I won’t go into the trials and tribulations of the soul-crushing journey of trying to find an agent or publisher – yukk! Self-doubt and fear stood at a close remove and taunted me: No one will care about reading your book. Who are you to offer any kind of “authority” on any subject?
But in August 2023, I received the golden email: A CONTRACT OFFER from a respected publishing company! I was overjoyed but overwhelmed. How do I DO this? Fortunately, Black Rose Writing guided me to this point where today I have soft-cover books in hand – with an ISBN number on the inside cover! – and a publication release date on Amazon of August 2024.
My head is still reeling from the journey and the accomplishment. Honestly, I’m actively working to wrap my head around achieving a Bucket List dream, trying to sit in the moment of “Wow, I did this.” But it’s awkward. My instinct is to deflect the attention I’m receiving. It feels weird, but I don’t want to miss the fun of it, ya know? And then…
In the middle of coming to terms with this Big Wow moment in my life, it hit me: OMG! People are actually going to READ this book now! It was one thing to “accomplish the goal,” but what?! People are going to read this fictionalized version of that chapter in my life – a deeply personal time of confusion and somewhat reluctant growth – and they might judge me. They will KNOW my fears and the ugly side of the secret I lived within for several years while my babies were babies. AND they will potentially judge me as a writer. The vulnerability of all that!
But the book has been published now. Digital copies are being developed. An audiobook might be in the works. No putting this genie back in the bottle. UGH! Where are the knitting needles?!
I guess I understand Erica Jong’s quote better now: “I went for years not finishing anything. Because, of course, when you finish something, you can be judged.”
But it’s too late now, and I’m just along for the ride. All I can do is hope that the story reaches people who will feel a connection to it and that those who don’t feel that connection will (quietly??) move on to their next read. The truth is, though, there will likely be some criticism. There will be readers who don’t like the book or people who think it’s simplistic drivel. OK. Everyone gets their opinion. I once developed a thick skin when I performed in live theater. I can do it again.
I will harness my inner Bréne Brown and face vulnerability with her definition of courage: “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.”
So here I am, stepping out from the safety of anonymity and invisibility. We’ll see how the spotlight feels. But no matter how it warms my skin, I’ll stand tall and own whatever comes. Still hoping for gentleness, but I’ve got this. (The knitting needles and yarn sit in the corner, just in case.)
Made with love by structure & heart studios
"Forks & Knives" was born as part of a long journal entry, a cathartic release. In 2003, despite being happily married to my second husband, insomnia visited me regularly. My brain pushed and pulled, working through hurtful and confusing memories that defined the rocky journey of my first marriage and its ultimate demise. The finished document sat inside my computer, unread, for seventeen years.
When I retired in 2021, I revisited the document, hesitantly. “Is this worth reworking into a novel? Would anyone care about this?” I asked my best friend, my husband Stephen, to read it. Bonus for me: He taught American literature for more than twenty-five years (!), so I knew I could trust his opinion. Happily, he confirmed, “Yes, it’s good. You should work on it.” Then he introduced me to Brian Kaufman (www.authorbriankaufman.com) and Penpointers, the Northern Colorado writer’s group that Stephen had belonged to years before I met him. Over the next year and a half, my self-focused monologue transformed into a work of fiction that would appeal to people outside my immediate circle of friends and family. At least that’s my hope.
Whenever I mention what this book is about, I'm invariably met with, "Yeah, my mom was a drinker," or "My son was sober for a while, but . . ." There are millions of stories like mine out there -- people who have loved/lived with alcoholics/addicts and struggled to hold on through the pain. But there are ways we can help and support those we love without losing ourselves. This novel alone can't help those still working through those dark days, but maybe some of the resources here can play a role.
