Seven Years of Writing Fifty Years of Life

I finished the Galley review; it’s back with the publisher and editor now…I hadn’t realized how much of the last seven years of writing, rewriting, revising and editing I’d spent bleeding all over the pages…I’ve done a million passes…this is the first one where I read about myself, in it.

I’m emotionally exhausted – BEYOND having just turned 50 while drinking and getting stoned alone.

This book was inspired by nightmares that I had during a time in my life where every day was a struggle, where I was just trying to cope with the loss of my marriage, no longer being part of my ex’s extended family, and the restrictions imposed on my ability to see the kids, back then, because of the emotional crisis I was going through.

The story I found hidden among those vivid dreams, all of which were turned into scenes of horror in the story, became They Came in Peace; that’s something I can never forget.

What I can’t understand is how, without ever inserting myself in the story in any way, so much of my blood poured out, into the pages I wrote.

I’ve been working on the final pass through book since the end of April, when my publisher emailed me the Galley.  The further into May I got, the more I immersed myself into the work.

I spent more and more time on it as I took some time off after an assignment, more and more hours each day.

It was only on Saturday, my birthday, that it dawned on me just how personal the story in They Came in Peace is to me; the characters’ circumstances are incredibly different from my own…but there are shards of myself in each of them.

Saturday, I did a lot of thinking, too.  I realized that I have too much red in my ledger.

Some people are gone from my life, and I’d never want them back.  Others are just people I remember fondly, whom I feel I may have mistreated; people who I want to have a good life.  But most are people I miss dearly, but hold out no hope of reuniting with.

I’m not a Good Man; I disabused myself of that illusion a long time ago.  I’ve been alive for fifty years; not all of them good.  I’ve made mistakes, and it’s time I did something about that.