As I write, for the first time, a story about two girls falling in love sometimes I feel like a part of me is cracking open. Understanding (or continuing to try to uncover and understand) these parts of myself I wasn’t aware of when I first started creating is both exhilarating, terrifying, sad, joyful. I see so many of my memories through a different lens now. I remember rejecting the YA book that turned out to be about a gay character with a different sort of pit in my stomach.
I honestly have had a block on even thinking about writing a women-love-women story for years after I came to terms with my own bisexuality.
Anyway, I love it. Block hopefully over? Girls in love with girls are A-plus. This is basically an update on how very gay I’m feeling lately to distract you from the fact that I haven’t magically produced a new novel yet. But I am excited about it?
Here are the last sentences I wrote this past week:
- 5/19: Coach groaned and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
- 5/20: Where did that come from?
- 5/21: It’s closed.
- 5/22: It was stale, tacky, and stuck in my teeth before I could spit it out.
- 5/23: You are more than how many miles you’ve run.
- 5/24: You could try for some gratitude?
- 5/25: That is technically a decision.
With love,
Natalie