A couple weeks ago, I had an “epiphany scene” for my book.

Basically, something about the book has been nagging at me for awhile. I made some changes that I thought addressed it. However, a recent reader brought up the issue all over again.

While obsessing over the damn book (again), I suddenly had an epiphany on how to fix the problem. It involved replacing a scene earlier in the book with a brand new one. And it seemed to improve things. That’s why I call it an epiphany scene (trademark pending).

I thought things were hunky dory until I realized the scene has implications throughout the rest of the book.

Sigh.

Therefore, I’ve spend the past week…NONSTOP…making ripple effect edits. Seriously, I’ve been up ’til midnight or later every day writing or editing.

I finished the initial draft of the changes last night. At that point, I leaned back, rested my head in my hands and thought:

I started this book in June 2013.

June 2013.

That means Camp NO Where – A Healing Home for Gay Kids is almost 2 years old. 2 years. I know some novels take people years, but that’s much longer than I anticipated.

Therefore, I’m writing this impassioned plea to my book:

Book, please graduate and leave the nest.

Book, over the past 2 years, you’ve been wonderful. You’ve given me a purpose. You’ve brought lots of people in writers groups little hints of joy. You’ve also been frustrating, nagging me in the middle of the night for attention.

I can see over the months how you’ve matured. Sure, you’re not perfect. But who is? The point is, you’re an adult now. And I want you to have a full adult experience before you’re too old to enjoy it. And, to be honest with you, I want my life back before I’m too old to enjoy it.

Therefore, I have to ask that you finally graduate and fly the coop.

Here’s why:

I Want to Have Other Books

Book, you know I love you, but my maternal instinct runs strong. My biological clock is ticking and I have at least 3 other children begging to be birthed. I’ve already purchased my anti-scar cream in preparation. And Preparation-H.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Isn’t there room for all of us?

At that, I have to respond: No, there’s not. This isn’t the Duggar family.

I Want You to Make Your Mark on the World

I don’t care if you aspire to great fame or simply want to meet 4 people then become a hermit. A goal is a goal. And I support whatever decision you make. So brush off your star-studded skills (or your homeless stick with the bandanna of clothes tied to it) and make your mark.

There’s no judgement here. Really.

Frankly, You’re Becoming a Bit of a Mooch

Let’s face it, book, you consume quite a few keystrokes. I didn’t mind it so much a year ago. You were young and couldn’t really fend for yourself.

But I have to admit that, now, every time I hit the “S” key or the “E” key, I can’t help but think that those are resources that could go to help the needy, the books that really need assistance growing up.

The last thing I want is to get bitter. But I feel you know, on some level, you’re gobbling up the precious “R”s  and you’re OK doing so. That isn’t acceptable. I don’t want us to grow to hate each other.

I Want You to Support Me in My Old Age

Yes, I totally support your decision to become a useless hermit. I promise. However, there’s that part in every proud parent’s head that hopes, at some point, his children will support him when he just wants to sit back with some damned Thai food, drink a Thai tea, and relax on the veranda (whatever a veranda is).

If that’s not going to be you, great. But let me have some other children so my chances of finding that “sugar child” are higher. Please.