There's a quote by a famous author that goes something like "Writing is easy. Just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein."
I poured a lot of myself into my first novel, due out this summer/fall. But that was over a long period of time. Last November, I gave in to a persistent thought and wrote 50k words I thought I would never share. They're too personal, too private, too painful. But then I thought I could publish it under a pen name. It's a good story with a lot of heart and soul. And I'm being as objective as possible here.
Then my husband read it.
The more I think about this story that should never see the light of day, I realize the only problem I have with it is a fear of hurting someone I love dearly. There are elements of this fiction novel that are drawn from real life. And it's pretty thinly veiled, so I don't want to run the risk of this person reading too much into the story.
But recently I have been assaulted with incredibly strong impressions about this story. The topic is so timely. It's something that affects so many people, and it's all about the power of forgiveness and the love of family. I'm getting teary right now thinking about it.
The story needs some work. Right now it's mostly a fictionalized version of real events, rather than fiction influenced by real events. I have to change some elements, but the very thought of re-opening that vein makes me tear up again. But I know, just as surely as I know my name, that I have to get this story published soon. And I'm not going to be able to use a pen name; I know that too.
So, the vein will be opened and I will bleed through my "pen" until the revisions are done. Wish me luck.