I fell a little bit in love today. It's the third day of National Write a Novel Month, or Nanowrimo. This means I and all my other story-o-philes who are taking the challenge will bust out at least 50,000 words of a story before December first.
Um, can you say daunting?
It didn't help that day one was, oh, laborious. On day one,my head was trying to squeeze a large quantity of words out and it just wasn't coming. I got a head cramp. I had to push and push and push, and finally a messy blob emerged. I've never actually given birth, but I imagine this is the mental equivalent of it. I still had a headache when I woke up on day 2.
What have I done, I thought? I've overthought the story. My plot is dead. My characters refuse to speak to me. I know there's a golden story in there, but I can't have it!
What followed was some wallowing, some gnashing of teeth, and a whole lot of prayer. I talked to God and I got all my peeps to talk to God on my behalf.
And then it happened. God, the Resurrector, breathed life into it. I sat down on Day 2 and words came. Good ones! And today, more words!
More than that, I lived the scene with my characters. I saw them, heard them, felt with them. I developed a little crush on the hero.
I'm grateful for story, for words, and for a God who is the Resurrection and the life, both for me, and for our story.
PS I'm about to eat a pizza with seven cloves over garlic on it. Okay, maybe only six. But either way, I'm glad that I'm not going to see anyone until tomorrow, or God might have another body on his hand to reanimate.