OK, so like every writer I know - I started writing a novel (years ago) - but it's frustrating that it's been a work-in-progress that never progresses; every few months I pepper my other projects with a chapter or two - or a line - or a scene - but it's pretty much "running in place" - and not with scissors. I could blame it on writer's block - but the truth of the matter is - it's more than that; I got a little freaked out when "life" started imitating art.
Here's exactly what happened:
I started writing a roman a clef version of things happening in my life - a fictional story about a woman in her early 40s who started singing in public for the first time in her life and who was murdered by the wife of someone in the business because the wife thought they were having an affair when, in actuality, he was having an affair with another woman who was the wife's best friend. But either way - the main character got carted out in the beginning of the story - and the rest of the book involved trying to find the murder and the motive. Standard pulp fiction meets Lifetime Television for women; nothing earth shatteringly profound - but surely something (I thought) I could publish under my cheesy pseudonym ("Justine St. Vincent" - also my then-dog's name, may she rest).
But as I wrote the book - things I was joking about started to come true. The person who was helping me (albeit unwittingly) gain more confidence and more exposure re: my singing (which led to some paying jobs) was actually having an affair with someone who his wife regarded as a friend. And one day - she knocked on my door to confront me - saying "I know he's having an affair...I think it's with you...if not ...tell me who it's with."
I was stunned- didn't answer any questions - somehow managed to get her to leave my house (and remove me from her lists of suspects) and the following day at work, told my boss about it.
"Hmmm," he said, "Life is imitating art, huh? Ok - then can you write about a middle-aged man with a weight problem who wins the lottery and quits his job and lives happily ever after?"
There is a point to all of this - I promise...
It's that: (a) apparently one can manifest one's destiny if one commits it to thought (or paper); (b) if you are not having an affair with someone's spouse, be sure they don't think you are, because the last thing you want to do is have someone come to your house and murder you: and (c) watch for my book signing at a local Barnes and Noble, sometime in 2011...(dreaming is free).
