After looking at that title, I wonder if I’m channeling Monty Python. I’m tempted to write, “And now for something different. A man with two noses.” I can even hear the carnival-type music playing in the background somewhere. (Quick side note. At my brother’s high school graduation, the exit music was the theme from Monty Python, which I know has an actual name; I just don’t recall what it is. When the time came to toss caps, my brilliant brother, whom I love dearly, kept his cap in hand and tossed his diploma instead. One of my favorite memories.)
I gave myself a June 1 deadline to get Release Point finished, tightened and ready to go, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to miss it unless the world gives me four more days to just sit in front of the computer and focus on it. Since that’s not going to happen, I’m extending my deadline to June 10th so I can have the first chapters ready for the NJRW contest, Put Your Heart in a Book. Since I co-coordinated the VFRW Sheila this year with Robin Kaye, I technically wasn’t eligible to compete, even though it’s one of the best contests in all of RWA. Something about possible bias and conflict of interest. Rats. Anyway, PYHIAB is the next best thing, and I’m not looking to win (even though it would rock), I need feedback. This story hasn’t seen the light of day since the Gather.com contest.
The problem is, somewhere between finishing up “Listen to Your Heart” and starting the rewrites on Release Point, I started getting a new idea about what it would be like to be the first woman to ever break through the glass ceiling in Major League Baseball. Of course, I don’t expect it to happen in my lifetime, but hey, I’m a fiction writer; I can imagine anything I want. Yesterday, just because I didn’t feel like rewriting RP at the moment, I gave in and scratched out the first scene. Followed by the second, and the third. Six thousand words later, I’m in love with the characters already. Kara has a moxie all her own, crafted by her father who lived for baseball and only had one child, a girl. He passed his love of the game down to her, and she carries it like a torch from there. Baseball is her life, almost to the exclusion of everything else, and even though she doesn’t realize it, she’s moving mountains by earning a place on the boys’ HS varsity team and making serious plans for a college baseball scholarship. I can’t wait to see her sign with a Major League team. It’s almost like being there when Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson. (I just finished Chris Coste’s autobio; once I finish the Babe Ruth bio, I’m going to look for a good book on Jackie Robinson. I read a piece about him breaking the color barrier in Readers Digest a few years ago, but I want to know more. The stuff he and his family went through still boggles my mind.)
Hard to believe, just a few weeks ago as I was planning the rewrites to RP, I was scared to the depth of my bones that I didn’t have any more stories in me. Thank God, they somehow manage to find me anyway, anywhere, anyhow. Life is good.