I am in love. Again. Fallen head over heels...for a new work in progress.
I feel bad for my struggling marriages to my other Works in Progress. While this new love is still fresh, new, with no insurmountable flaws, my other marriages languish.
I have so many projects that have reached the murky part of marriage where the kids are young, I'm tired all the time, and just facing the day can seem beyond my capabilities. The house is messy, the meals are just barely nutritious, and yet my WIP wives call for me from their separate homes in my head. Sometimes in whispers, or whimpers, or screams.
I try to tend to them all, hoping that someday they'll somehow resolve themselves, their plots unwind, the corners of their psyches revealed in the sudden illumination of the miraculous words: THE END. And all without too much work on my part.
Finally I can't take their nagging any more and have to take a break. I take a walk. I find the club where all the sexy new ideas hang out. I think, "I'm just going to peek. Just a little. It won't hurt to see what else is out there."
And then it happens again. I see that little story idea, or a character peeps at me through her lashes and I fall hard. I am putty in their hands. And after a whirlwind courtship, I am married. Again. And before I know it, another corner of my brain has a house and a fence and a pregnant work in progress begging me to just FINISH the dang thing so she can have this baby. I won't tell you how long some of these WIP wives have been pregnant. It's indecent. And embarrassing.
I know that eventually all these WIPs will give birth. They may be barefoot and pregnant for a decade, but eventually, they will share our efforts with the world. Maybe. If I can stop letting myself be tempted by the easy bride.