Musing

We are so close to finishing TJB5 that it’s making me crazy. I want to be finished, and I’m sure when I say goodbye to it, I’ll be relieved. The past has taught me, however, that some of the most difficult writing experiences are the ones that linger in my heart, that I don’t want to let go of. Maybe it’s because in the final analysis, all their difficulty means there was more of me invested in them.

Although I can’t honestly say that any of the novels I’ve written or helped write are less meaningful to me than any of the others. I think one of the easiest books–for ME, not necessarily for all of my writing partners–was HE’S THE ONE. It was written after 9/11, but it covered a time in NYC before 9/11. As much as I fell for Adam, its narrator, my real love affair in that novel (and this, I think, is also true of my writing partners and of Adam) was with New York City. Which is why we dedicated our book to the city.

HE’S THE ONE was a fairly uncomplicated love story and remains a novel we get a lot of reader mail about, even though it’s four years old. Almost all of that mail is positive. However, some people say it contains too many coincidences, and others say Adam just has things too easy. I say that coincidences are the magic of life and don’t have to be ignored in fiction, and Adam works hard for everything he has. If it seems effortless, it may be because Adam’s not a whiner and doesn’t focus on the negative.

I needed Adam when he came to us. In fact, there are times even now when I need a boost that I’ll daydream about Adam and what’s going on in his life. I know he’s happy, because Adam seeks and savors happiness. I adore him.

HE’S THE ONE will also always make me remember a reader who came to our signing for the novel and quietly shared the story of his lover, who had died, with Tim and me while our writing partners were signing for some other readers. I still cry when I think of that gentleman, and the memory that our novel touched him has gotten me through some moments when harsher critics made me second-guess my writing ability.

Last night I was looking at the web site of another author who was talking about one of her muses, a poet. Although I would not necessarily be inspired by that particular poet, I loved that she is. I loved the way she spoke of him and his work and what it meant to her. I felt for her when she said she was a little insecure about saying he was her muse because other people might not find her muse worthy. Bah, I say to that. Inspiration is always a gift, whether that inspiration is a wonderful or horrible experience, a great or mediocre artist, an enemy or friend, a lover or someone unobtainable.

What or who is your muse? What fires your creativity? Treasure it.

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