Someone mentioned a familiar line to me today: Watch out what you wish for, because you might get it. We’d been talking about the gaggle of editing and proofreading I’ve been doing for SWELL, in preparation for submission to editors.
This is what I wanted. This is what I got. And when my agent gave me a one-week turnaround deadline to get SWELL back to her, I thought it’d be a piece of cake.
Instead of a fluffy angel food or tasty red velvet, this is a dense and meaty fruitcake in my hands. There’s nuts in it (and God knows the work I do is making me nuts), and fruits (of my labor, I surmise), and a bit of liquor (to get me through the process). It eats like a meal and, quite frankly, it’s hard to choke down. Such is a labor of love like writing.
This road we choose is one borne of desire to express our stories. We want to share the joy and pain of being through words. We make-up worlds and slay dragons. We bring the erotic to relationships and hopeful dreams to the young. The ideas we have are not fluffy cake, but the meat and potatoes of desert that deserves more than a passing grimace during the holidays.
You’re probably wondering why the hell I’m going on about cake. Could be because I’m perpetually hungry. More likely, it’s because I hunger for the stories I’ve written to reach your eyes. Your heart. Your mind. And your soul. I want you to feel the pain, roll in the desire, and taste the experience that is my work. It’s a road that I want, and one I plan on traveling for however long it takes.
Now, about that frosting…