Life Imitates Art? (I'd Like to Think So)

Okay, so I've been writing the next in this trilogy of short novels/novellas, showing (hopefully) that the main MC, Tessa, has grown some cujones. She actually gets pissed at the woman who's been helping her out; not the nicest thing to do, but Tessa felt she'd been babied for way too long.

Segue into last night. Hubby and I had an argument, a heated one. (Everything is fine; just one of those things.) He was yelling at me about something, and what I usually do is not say anything and avert my eyes - you know, try to make myself even smaller than I am (and I'm pretty tiny).

However...I had just written the part where Tessa grows a pair, and that scene stuck in my mind. So I yelled back. For more than a minute. Cursing. I hated doing it - I hate arguing about anything - but I felt it was necessary to stand my ground, considering what he said (which I won't go into here).

You know what? Hubby gave me a thumb's up for standing my ground, after all was said and done. No broken dishes or broken windows or anything else. Just an "Okay, I see where you're coming from," kind of a statement.

So maybe what I'm writing isn't literature with a capital "L". Doesn't matter. If someone gets an idea or enjoyment out of reading my stuff, it's all worth it.


Deb said...

Love your conclusion, not to mention what it took to get you there! True story, that :)

Nancy Beck said...


Yep, it's all true! :-) I was just amazed that something I wrote stuck in my head. :-)