I launched the I C U manuscript this week: pressed the computer button that hurled it through cyberspace to the publisher.
I felt like a mother dropping off her little child at kindergarten for the first day of school. Afraid. Hopeful. Alone. Hoping I’d done the best I could to give the offspring its best chance to be.
Yes, I know that is emotional overkill.
But the truth is that a writer is attached to her writing. Even a fiction novel is a part of the writer.
For though my I C U manuscript is fictional in every respect–its characters, their relationships and conversations and their experiences; its wild crazy plot– it was written from a me that, like I C U’s protagonist, Renee, was widowed as a young woman.
I do not know an actual Renee. None exists as far as I know, but I am and have been me inside.
So, I can write Renee and her pain and vulnerability the way a person can write about Mount Everest who has actually been to Mount Everest and seen the slope of the mountain, its rocks, heard how its ground crunches when she steps on it, seen the light behind it as the sun rises.
Fiction about Renee or Mount Everest or anything else is a product of the writer’s imagination and IS because the writer is the writer who is conjuring up the story.
More details about I C U as this publication process continues.
Life 101, Blog 3, April 23, 2016
Copyright 2016. Jackie Warren Tatum