Novel thoughts

For 30 years I have toyed with the idea of writing a novel. On my 45th birthday, I sat in bed and wrote 15 pages. That was 11 years ago. Over the years I’ve stuck a few pages in the folder. Each page holding a spark of memory from my own life, mixed with some fictitious idea. I’ve never counted the pages but maybe the book has already been written or maybe not.

I read and write about fear – about facing it, understanding it, dismantling it, fighting it down and going on. Sometimes I think I’ve done that and I am ready to sift through and sort out the pages in my novel’s folder. But each time, there is that darn fear again.

Last year, I stumbled upon a different truth – a reality that dismantled everything I believed about a particular situation in my own life, which means there will be a new twist in my novel’s story. So, I have to identify the new fears that have surfaced and deal with them so that I can go on, as I often encourage my readers to do.

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It is interesting, if not downright puzzling, how you can live your life totally consumed with one belief, only to discover that you missed the real story – the heartbreaking truth. 

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