Happy Endings

Another holiday finished for a year. What a month it was, too. If you've read this blog long, you know that November through February is a difficult time. In the last few years, it hasn't been terrible, but this year, that mess just blew up in my face.

Starting November 12th, 2025, I began working on a new novel. That wasn't the plan. I have a story I've been working on for a long time and suddenly wanted to write the backstory of those characters to see if it would help me. What happened is confusing and surprising to me.  

As of today, I'm at 35,991 words. That's 2249 words a day, and there were a couple of days I didn't write at all. For non-writers, that's a lot of words.

What was confusing was the emotional turmoil I experienced for the first five days. I cried every day. Every time I wrote and after stopping for any reason. I was just wrecked. It took five days to figure out why. 

My husband died 17 yrs ago this coming January 29th. It was the greatest trauma I've ever experienced. While writing the new story, around the third day, I realized that many of the character traits of the main character reminded me of my husband when we first married. The way he treated the female love interest, the attitudes, and his actions were all my husband. Even the initial meeting of the characters was a reflection of meeting my husband. With that realization, any control I had disappeared. And from that point on, there were moments I had to stop writing at all. I even fell apart in front of my son. 

I don't actually know what would have happened if I had continued without talking to a friend. They gave me the freedom to talk and to let me cry. I felt like a fool and was embarrassed, but it gave me a way to find some control, albeit shaky at best. 

Now, sixteen days in, the story is still flowing like water. I don't know whether anyone will ever read it. I don't care. Though the experience was and is traumatic, the beautiful memory of being loved and cherished is mine to keep. Jerry was the only person who ever wanted me. Maybe we find that only once. I would not like to believe that, but I do. I don't know what he saw in me. I doubt there are many men who can see at that deep. 

I still have to get through finishing this story. Then I have to do an edit or two. Every time I go back to check something or read a passage, it breaks me again. How do you survive that?

I don't care. Just this once, I'll finish the story. There will be a happy ending. Something I never got. And maybe that's why this story came to me. Everyone deserves that much.