A Love More Like Hate

A Love More Like Hate

Dear Novel,

I hate you. Why? Because you’re not working with me. You’re not communicating. You’re giving me only half of you.

You have no parameters. You’re all over the place, and I can’t live like this.

There are other novels I could have married you know. Plenty of them, that are probably just as good, if not better that you. That’s right. I said it!  BETTER! Tons of them! There’s one novel in particular that works really well for me, when I write it, it comes out so smooth and brilliant, but I stopped seeing it, because…

I thought I loved you more. I thought we would were going to have a long and fruitful life together. I thought you showed me who I really was inside. Who I really wanted to be.

But now, I’m afraid, we’ve passed the honeymoon stage. Novel, when I married you I didn’t think you had all these random quirks. This tendency to drip ideas casually and randomly, while I’m here open-mouthed with an open bag trying frantically to catch it all as it comes, like an idiot.

It pisses me off that you will spend days not speaking to me. I hate it. Stop doing it, we’re not gonna get anything done with the silent treatment. (What is your issue? I mean, seriously!)

I’m afraid my friends, family and the people who read my blog are starting to notice our relationship isn’t so perfect.

We’ll screw it!  I’m tired of pretending. I’m telling everybody!  Sometimes I hate you. You get on my freakin’ nerves!  This is supposed to be a team effort, Novel.  You and me together. What happened to all that? We were gonna sacrifice together. I trusted you, and you’re not doing your part.

I’m not buying your complaints that I’m too demanding or too overbearing. I live my own life independent of you, and you know it. I’m giving you the time we agreed upon, so tell me, what’s wrong?  I’m too nit-picky? You knew that’s how I was when you married me, so come on! I can’t be perfect! I’m impatient? Oh, you know what? You’re just making stuff up now. All I have is patience! What more can I give? You’re crazy! You’re a lunatic, and I can’t believe I ever married you.

This isn’t looking good. I’m writing to tell you that for the first time I’m doubting this. I’m not sure if I can put up with it.  You’re the demanding one, you’re the high maintenance one, you got some serious narcissistic tendencies. There’s two in this relationship you know, and it’s not all about you.

All I have to say is that if you really want this relationship to work, you’re gonna have to show up. I used to be here whenever you needed me to be, but those days are over. I’m setting a bottom line:  when I sit down to write, I expect you to be there. When I’m not at my desk, don’t bug me, I need my space. This is how this is going to work from now on.

Hey, that’s the only way I’m gonna keep my sanity.

Talent’s like a wild horse I guess, and until you can tame it, it’ll drive you crazy.

So now you know the new deal, Novel. Take me or leave me. There’s only two ways to go. Your move.


Your author


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Categories: Writer's Journal