Wednesday, November 26, 2008
This month I have been writing a novel. Well, la-de-dah. Just call me Ernesta Hemingway (my tribute to a fellow Oak Parker). It's part of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) and it's been great fun.
As a Nanowrimo participant, my goal is supposed to be 50,000 words by November 30. I am going to fall woefully short of that ambitious word count. But that doesn't mean it's been a waste. My novel-writing exercise has been good for me, as helpful as this blog has been in keeping my head (reasonably) clear. For my topic was paths not taken -- how my life would be at 50 if I married the men I thought I wanted so desperately. I have happily come to the conclusion that I am far better off now, and it's helped me remember that "alone" is just a downside to "independent," and for all that "alone" scares me these days (especially in this economy), "independent" is still the right path for me.
It also reminds me, wistfully, that one of the men I've been involved with is definitely the love of my life. He is a good man, with integrity and intellect. I miss the give-and-take with someone who is soooo much smarter and cooler-headed than I. But he was too emotionally remote and I know I couldn't be happy with a man who didn't share his heart as freely as his head. I have been involved with some shitheels in my life, but he was not one of them, and I hope wherever he is, he is happy and healthy because, in my way, I still love him very much.