I made my last entry in August just before starting draft two of Emmie at a lovely bed and breakfast in stunning Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
I’ve been there twice since that entry, the second time staying at the haunted 1886 Crescent Hotel, for research purposes, don’t you know. More on that in another post.
And here I am the day before St. Patrick’s Day, less than a hundred pages from completing draft three.
I’ve never had a more enjoyable ride in the writing world. A few have equaled it, like typing the words “The End” to my first completed manuscript (horrible though it was), but none has exceeded it.
The more Emmie has taught me about herself and her life, the more I’ve come to love her. In some ways she reminds me of my late sister, in others of various friends I’ve had over time.
But she lives as unique in my imagination.
With the wonderful help of my “live” writers group in Cleburne, Texas called The Writerie, the amazing Wayward Writers headed by Ariel Gore of which I’m a proud member, and other wonderful friends, she is taking shape.
One person I met accused me of being a religious zealot with this story, and that bothered me somehow.
I’ve tried hard (and succeeded to my mind) in keeping religion out. Being a ghost tale, by definition, presents an afterlife, but only twice do I mention a specific religion. First is to say that Emmie is buried in the cemetery behind the First Baptist Church.
And in the part of the country I live in, a small town is composed of a gas station, post office, four Dairy Queens, and a First Baptist Church.
The second is that a character is in Methodist Hospital.
What’s a writer to do?
I’ve poured myself into this story, and I promise to be more diligent with this blog regarding that world and other writerly and/or readerly musings. If I am to interest you in its contents, than my job is to be a consistent contributor.
Next week, I’ll post about my experience in the haunted hotel.
Have a great week!