Happy almost Valentine’s Day, humans! Have you sent out your Valentines? I already bought my true love a box of books (much better than a box of chocolates). Who am I kidding? I don’t have a true love; I bought myself the box of books.
That way I can sit and cry my head off about characters instead of feeling sorry about being alone on Valentine’s Day. After all, I’m a nice dinosaur, so why wouldn’t some dinosaur girl like me? She probably would, if I ever talked to one. But I’m too busy talking to the characters inside my head.
Come to think of it, I don’t need a girlfriend because I’m already in love. With my book. Sometimes it almost feels like I’m married to it. I know I must be in love because it gives me so much heartaches and headaches.
Are you in love? If you are unsure, here are some of the symptoms of writerly love:
- You pick off each sentence and say (or feel): “I love it, I love it not, I love it, I love it not.”
- Your first thought in a fire isn’t to save your life, it’s Save my manuscript!
- You become jealous if anyone even thinks about stealing your book idea from you.
- You look at the rough draft of it and say, “If only there was someone out there who loved you.”
- You’ve been around it so much that you’re not sure whether it’s fascinating or boring.
- You become raging mad when people pick on your precious love (even if it desires to be picked on).
- You love your characters as deeply as Romeo loved Juliet (and therefore decide to kill your characters).
- Your ideas look lovely in your eyes even if they’re clad in typos and plot holes.
- You want your true love to look her best in public, but don’t care too much about how she looks on your computer screen.
- You dream about it every day, every night, and never when you’re actually writing it.
Golly, now I really do feel like I’m married. My book’s even started to get after me about things (like actually writing) and complain about how I’m always telling it what to do.