It’s that time of the year again. It’s NanoWrimo time! Okay, not really. For those of you who are NanoWrimo nerds like myself, you’ll know that there is a summer camp going on. I’m all about summer camp, as long as there’s no bugs or cabins or community toilets.
Who am I kidding? I fail at summer camp. Nevertheless, Nanowrimo is having one that I can participate in from the comfort of my own Sleep Number bed, and I get to spend the whole month basking in the goodness of writing my novel. I need something to bask in the goodness of, other than humidity, broken car mirrors and seizure testing. (See: The really fun part of last month was when someone parked in a spot that wasn’t an actual parking spot and ripped the mirror off of my car while I was in the hospital for an appointment. They didn’t leave their insurance information, so now I have to pay for a new mirror and my mechanic is out of town for two weeks. Fun times, my friends.)
Coincidental to this whole situation, my novel takes place at an old summer camp turned retreat and wedding venue, Firefly Meadow, set in the fictional town of Adelyn, Alabama. Population: crazy. I was looking for a way to integrate a situation in my life that changed everything inside of me and made me lose who I was, into a fictionalized story, but didn’t know how I wanted to do it. Several ideas swam through my head, until, with a little help from a very special friend named Sarah, came the inspiration for the book.
Some people I know will be portrayed under fictional circumstances. The ones who were good to me will like it. Someone probably won’t. But it’s not gossip if it’s the truth, and it’s not real if it’s fictional. The burden of similarity lies on the ones who are vain enough to believe they’re worth writing about. And if, by chance, they are one I wrote about, actions have consequences. Inspiring a story may just be that. No one is put to shame. No one is mocked. It’s just a story after all. A fictional story. One that I know other women can relate to and will find when they just need something to relate to like I’ve done with so many books over time. They made me feel normal. They made me connect with the characters. That’s all you can ask from a book.
So wish me luck on this little journey because, as Sarah would say, “I’m so excited I could pee!” (Please don’t.)