When I was writing my first novel, I was also finishing a project for the government, contracted through a Canadian faith-based organization, to write a book on prevention of domestic violence. When I delivered the non-fiction manuscript I sighed and said, not even under my breath, “Here it is. Done. Now I can get back to my real writing.”
I was appalled and tried to retract that totally inappropriate statement. “I am so sorry! It just shows how tired I am, that I consider this project less real than fiction! I am sooooo sorry.”
Then the kindest man I might ever meet shook his head and looked straight at me. “You are so right. Don’t apologize. What you’ve written here for us is real, but your novel, that’s really real.”
Kenny is about what’s really real – metaphysics – so I need to move it into a novel form. Starting this month I’m going to go on a writing binge, trying to complete the first draft with support and good humour (oh yes, ‘humour’ is spelled like that back in Canada, and I’m back) from the good folk with NANOWRIMO. I’m on it.