Working Mother

When I discover a new author, I tend to get pretty obsessive about their work. In my current unemployed state, I’ve found a lot more time for reading (thank you, Memphis Public Library, for your awesomeness). Most of the fiction I read is serial, and while I try to read a series in order, since I’m only going with library books, and I don’t want to drive all over town to get specific books, nor have I any interest in requesting books to be sent to one central location, I find myself reading out of order. And once I’ve finished a series (in whatever order), there’s usually one more book. The collection of short stories.

The husband and I were at the library the other day, and he noticed that I had a collection of short stories by my current author (Laurell Hamilton, by the way). “You don’t like short stories,” he reminded me.

He’s right, sort of. But a little glimpse inside an author’s mind, of her flights of fancy, is sometimes gratifying.

And this collection did the trick. It also did another trick. It inspired me to start working on my book again.

I mostly feel guilty when I think about the book. I gave it a good start, but abandoned it when it got tough. But maybe I just need a different approach. Maybe it needs to start out with short stories. Maybe that’s what it will be.

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In college, my senior year, I had a space to fill with a humanities elective, and one of my friends recommended a writing workshop she’d taken the previous semester. I had never written fiction before, and I found it to be just the right balance of challenging and easy. I enjoyed writing stories, and my teacher told me they were good (she even urged me to change my major, which, in my senior year, was not going to happen). While cleaning out a closet, I found my old stories and, yes, they were good. Sure, the transitions were rough, and some of the characters were very two-dimensional, but the plots were good.

We’ll see. I may just be feeling inspired for a little while. But maybe I can write a story a week, then have a book at the end. Or one of the stories might not be short. Only one way to find out.

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