So the other day, I was griping on Facebook because it was evening at my house, but it was so hot, and the air was so humid, and we had the a/c on but were still sweating somehow. Then the next day… thunderstorm. Today, it’s just wet and soggy.
AND I LOVE IT.
I grew up in a tiny community on the Big Island, and it rained a lot there, so I love the rain. I love getting caught in the rain. I love the way it makes my hair smell. I love the thick chilliness in the air when it stops. The only thing I don’t like about rain are those muddy flecks of water that run up the back of your legs and ruin your pants and make you look ridiculous. Seriously, my shoes need heel shields.
Alrighty, so I’m sure a lot of you have been where Edie has been. Sure, we like to think that once it happens to us, we’d never let it happen again. We save, and we save often. We save religiously! Every five minutes, we jam CTRL+S to live in peaceful security.
But with fiction, sometimes the book is a distraction. Sometimes it’s so heavy an edit that you start slipping. You’re concentrating so hard on translating each sentence into something readers can decipher that your brain just starts focusing on the work.
Sometimes the book is so enthralling that you can barely look away. Fifty pages later, and oops, you realize you can’t even remember when you last saved.
Whatever the reason, the point is, no matter how many times you’ve been burned, it can still happen again.
And the pain never gets easier.