Showing posts with label Spider Fingers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spider Fingers. Show all posts

Thursday, January 8, 2009

After the shouting

I'm not doing so well the alliterative posting schedule (Marfan Monday), mostly because life has been a bit hectic. Even if I can't stick to Mondays, I will try to post weekly.

and now

on with the Marfantastic Show.

The shouting and flailing all have to do with the 7 stages of grief. I may have gone through grief before, but this was the first time I woke up to cheeks that were damp because the tears had been falling while I was asleep.

Because this wasn't the first time something awful had happened to me, I knew some of the things to do--exercise, massage, talk to my therapist (I said it wasn't the first time something awful had happened).

One morning, as I was walking, something the doctor had said when she gave us the diagnosis popped into my head. "This can be a difficult diagnosis for a teen athlete." My daughter is no athlete--she's always preferred cooperative games to competitive ones and loves to dance--so getting out of the team sports part of phys ed class was no big deal.

I started imagining what it would be like for a middle school student, one the same age as my daughter, but a girl who built her whole life around a sport, the way I've seen some kids do. I knew how she would field. The world as she knew it was over. But she was only 13. What was she going to do with her life now.

Since I'm a writer, I knew what I had. But I also resisted. I'd been working on a story about a first overnight. I wanted to finish that story. I didn't want to work on this story, because it felt like I was exploiting something that wasn't necessarily mine to exploit.

That was in April 2001. By July I had accepted that this was a story I had to write, even if, in a way, I still didn't want to. I was the only person who could tell this story they way I thought it needed to be told. In September, when my daughter started school, I started to draft.

It didn't pour out. Some days it barely dripped out. But I didn't stop. I wrote the really sh**ty first draft Annie Lamotte talks about. I wrote I don't know how many more drafts. I shared it in bits and pieces with my writers group. They critiqued. I revised and revised some more. Three years ago I finished "Spider Fingers." It's my first completed novel manuscript.

I've submitted "Spider Fingers" to a number of editors and one agent. So far no takers. At the moment, it's with another agent and soon I'll query others as well as submit to a couple of specific editors. My goal for 2009 is to find a home for "Spider Fingers," while I work on several more.

I don't believe that when life hands you a lemon you should make lemonade. I'm with Calvin of "Calvin and Hobbes," who once said, "When life hands you a lemon, I say, zing it right back and add a few of your own."

"Spider Fingers" is not sweet. Having to find a whole new identity at age 13 is not a sweet thing to have to do. But I hope my novel finds readers who take comfort in knowing that someone else their age was able to find a way to make her life satisfying again.