I’ve been writing like a woman possessed for the past few days…I’m entirely consumed by Tyson. My family will confirm this – they’ve barely seen me, I can’t think of anything else. The words keep coming to me and I’m so worried that if I don’t get them down, somehow they’ll fall out of my head.
Through it all, something has occurred to me.
Love is beautiful…and it’s messy.
It has to be both. I’ve written love stories that are all ‘unicorns and sunshine’. They just don’t ring true. By the same token, when I’ve filled them with angst and agony, it doesn’t work either. Getting the balance right is crucial. It makes it real. The best kind of love fulfills us…yet challenges us at the same time. It’s how we grow together as couples. But change often brings conflict, and usually it’s with those closest to us.
This week I crafted a journey for two people who have become so deeply connected to me it feels as if we share a heart. I’ve shaped their most intimate moments – there are times I’ve almost felt I should give them some privacy. But then, without me, they wouldn’t exist, so I guess that couldn’t work! But by putting these words on paper, I expose their moments to the world, and part of me wants to explain it all. The beauty. And the messiness. I’m a little afraid to share it, but at the same time, I can’t hide it. I guess this is the great terror – and triumph – of being a writer. And I can’t imagine doing anything else.
