It’s wonderful when things fall into place. Eureka moments. Standing in my bathrobe this morning, little thought bubbles floated towards me and popped on the end of my nose.
It occurred to me that as I write my story, for the last 50 years my story was writing me. The bit player, the extra, the walk on with one line. occasionally the supporting actress. Frequently the protagonist, the comedian, the villain, a dumb blond.
I was off-center, out of balance. Spent my time reading other people’s stories. Reading so much I didn’t take time to write my own. Made a few attempts when I was girl. But they were labeled too weird, too flowery. The main character’s name was misspelled. They’re made up for God’s sake.
Friends in the story disappeared over the years. Lost touch, died. “Did you hear what happened to Susie?” Slowly I let my dreams be written out of the story. So long ago I don’t remember what they were. But they will come back, or new ones will form in the empty spaces.
Yesterday, husband and I were debating a plan. It got heated. Finally snapped out “that’s not in my story.” Husband stared at me speechless. Who said that? Wow, I said that.
Husband and I married with pre-conceived scripts, even if they were subconscious. Marriage is supposed to be like this. “Blah, blah.” A wife is supposed to….what? Cook and clean, spend your money? The man is supposed to kill the bug!
When we were dating we created all kinds of wild stories together. Husband played Dungeons and Dragons with his friends for years. He can spin amazing and complex tales.
I’m looking forward to co-writing our story. I’m done standing by the wall and letting it pass me by.