Many years ago… long before I met my husband, I had an odd conversation with my boyfriend at the time.
We were walking down the streets of Ann Arbor early on a Sunday morning. The university was on break, so the streets were unusually deserted. There was only one other person in sight.
She was older than we were… probably around 40 years old and she was walking her dog and window-shopping the stores that were not yet open, walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the street.
And I had the flash.
I wondered whether my boyfriend would know what that meant.
“Do you ever,” I remember asking him, “see someone– a stranger– and just for a split-second feel like you’ve changed places with them? You see things from their point of view, see yourself through their eyes, and then become aware of something you hadn’t consciously realized about them? Like that the tag on the back of their shirt is really itchy or something?”
My boyfriend turned to watch the woman fading from sight behind us, shoulder twitching slightly, and answered, “No. And that’s why you should write books.”
At the time, and for virtually all time since, up until a few weeks ago, I’d had no intention of writing books. Not consciously, anyway. I suppose I remember this incident more than 10 years later, and that is probably saying something in itself.
The writing is coming along. I am feeling a little less worried. Many thanks to those that gave me reassurance. My book would definitely be rated MA. If it is published, it will probably be banned, but so are lots of books with something to say.
I’ve now finished 29 chapters and am approaching 68,000 words. I am starting to close in on the climax, so that is exciting. I’ll probably start writing that section in another 6 – 8 chapters or so.