I’ve discovered something about myself writing these blogs. I’m really snide. You should see the first drafts of these things. Snipe. Snipe. Snipe. I get it down and out so to speak, post it, then take a shower during which my nicer self returns and so I dry off, go back to my blog, edit out half the obnoxious remarks. So if you’re early you might get the real me. You wait, I’ve been cleansed.
I’m always surprised by this side of myself. I walk around thinking I’m such a nice person but my agents know it well. They’re the ones who have to sit on my book proposals which have titles like Bullying: a comedy.
It comes out in some of my books. My black side. Like my first, How to Cook a Tart. But even that one got edited, my editor suggesting delicately that we put some of the gorier gore off camera. He also edited out my favorite scene in Mounting Desire, the one where the hero becomes impotent. I said at the end of the editing, I’m worried that I’ve taken out too much. He said, Trust me.
It’s not an attractive trait. It’s one I have to fight if I’m going to write anything that touches people. It’s as if I’ve got to dig past the calcified layers of hard shell to where a sliver of heart might still reside.
photo by James Jordan (flickr)