*dusts off blog*
I’ve been thinking about what to post. It’s been awhile, and that’s a good and terrible thing. Terrible, because I hate dusty corners, but great, because all my words are going other places. Made up ones. And those need a lot of tending.
I’m in love with a new story and it takes place by the sea. There’s an overachiever girl born with a curse carried from her mother’s island, a gruffly-hot but silent fisherman, awkward stumbling into sweaty crushes, meet-cutes, and miscommunication. It’s the first story whose ending came to me first, and this linear writer can’t wait to get there.
But it’s work. Dismantling one place to build somewhere new.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m trying to find my way back to the fever of tumbling over new words into a story that’s created as I fall. I’ve got to lose touch with one shore to reach the other. And that’s been tough. I’ve been sitting here watching the tides and thinking too much.
This is my first manuscript since becoming agented. So, I couldn’t help but do the thing where I think about Daisy and the trajectory of where I want to go and who to bring along next. And leaving her to write someone new was almost impossible. I’m carved deep by that book, and Nova Creek sits in my mind always; warm, sweet orange-blossom breezes blowing through open windows and two kids running off into a grove.
But there’s this bench by a marina where a girl is having her breakfast and pretending to be somewhere else. She’s drawing in her journal, contemplating the horizon, and eating more bread. She’s also in a rush. Because she’s always in a rush. Except for these early moments where she’s pretending to be somewhere else. The fisherman wonders over her. Everyone does when you’re the granddaughter of the town bruja.
There’s so much warmth, magic and hope. And finally, words.
I can’t wait for others to meet her.
So, here’s to a new year and all the girls I’m bringing along with me.