Writing Home at Last

A three year olds mind can come up with many adventures. When I was three, with the help of my favorite preschool teacher, I wrote my first story about a mommy bird and a baby bird and that fateful day when it was time for the baby bird to fly solo. There was squawking from the baby bird, but once in flight she could find she could do it. She could fly and not hit the ground. Today, I feel some similar feelings about writing now at the lovely young age of 40. I wasn’t sure if I could write a novel, I felt a gentle push then a harder kick in the pants by my characters, Edward and Liz Levine, telling me they want to be in the world, outside of my head. (Even though my head is a cool place to hang.) I visualized these childhood sweethearts at a writer’s retreat ten years ago. Three years ago, I said to Ed and Liz and myself, I am going to try to write your story. I took weeks off from work and wrote everyday by the ocean. The writing just flowed out of me. (I have been a therapist for seventeen years and an oral historian for eight.) The character Liz is a therapist and world renowned for her knowledge of sex and relationships. I found that I put a lot of my thoughts and experiences about love and relationships into this book. It became an act of love to write and to finish a good draft. I am glad I could take that flight from the branch and soar as a writer. Thank you!