I had an odd and unexpected start to writing. One Saturday at Starbucks I was having coffee with my friend Mike Oldham, solving the problems of the world. He described a romance novel he’d been thinking about writing. He had the title and the ending and they were catchy and interesting. he said he was too busy, and asked if I wanted to collaborate on it. I thought it was a cool challenge. Even without ever thinking of writing a book, I didn’t hesitate before saying yes. We collaborated to the extent that he provided the title and ending and I wrote the book.
It was such a fun project. I reported on each milestone I reached, 5,000 words, 10,000, 25,000. Back at the beginning, the words just flew onto the page and I thought how easy is this? Then I was overwhelmed to realize I had to write at least 70,000 words. How would I get there?
It didn’t help that I’m a very literal, linear person. I don’t think in offshoots and meanders. It took years of work and a few readers and editors to get me to the end. It was immediately apparent how valuable those editors were. Applying their comments and suggestions, and rewriting more than once, I witnessed my novel growing into a polished story. A polished story that’s sitting in a drawer somewhere. Needless to say, it wasn’t a very lucrative collaboration for Mike.
But I got the bug. Now, a decade or so later, I’ve written five or six novels, and have a few more that are WIPs. It’s fun. Maybe someday it will also be lucrative!