Adios, Mi Querido...

I'm writing a book. I've got the page numbers done. ---Steven Wright


Boy, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear the comedian who penned that phrase sat beside me last weekend while I stared at the blank document on my computer screen. I’d bet he watched as I set the formatting to Page One, Chapter One for my new book which was to be a prequel to the story I just completed.


No, the title of my new book isn’t Page One, Chapter One. The page and chapter number were just as far as I’d gotten in the writing of it.


I was stuck. Those first words, that first scene for the new venture wouldn’t materialize. And I didn’t like that. Here I was, with this imagination which usually runs rampant, and I stared at an empty horizon. Nothing for miles. Blank.


I think my muse—or whatever you want to call it—still hung out with the characters of my recently finished book. My muse really loves those guys. I love those guys. Separation anxiety? Had I become too attached to them? Hey, don’t laugh. To a certain extent, I think that’s what it was.


Nicholas Sparks said, Writing the last page of the first draft is the most enjoyable moment in writing. It's one of the most enjoyable moments in life, period.


But Truman Capote said, Finishing a book is just like you took a child out in the back yard and shot it.


For me, it was somewhere in between—giddy excitement, but a painful grip of the gut, saying goodbye to my heroes. Not only did I shoot my ‘children’, but dared to think about walking away from them to embrace other children. Who knew I would get so personally involved with the damn story?


Are you laughing at me again? What? You mean YOUR characters do NOT ride to work with you and discuss their plight with you? YOUR characters don’t dictate which CD to play in the car, jealously making sure your mind stays on them and their story? Mine do.


I think the whole purpose of doing a prequel was to keep these characters front and center, to hold them close by creating a new story around them. And I suppose, to do so, I just wanted to go on writing them forever. This way, they would never fade from my heart. I’d never really be abandoning them.


My character, Candelario, smiled smugly at me, sure he’d convinced me to stick around and make a new adventure for him. He even crooked a finger and winked, beckoning me back to his world, to dance to El Mexico de Rocio with him while I dreamed up more romance for him. He’d won. No new characters for me. You know you can’t resist me, mi linda senorita, he cooed.


But it happened. No sooner had I succumbed to his Latino charm—turning my back on the possibility of new heroes, new adventures—two new characters appeared on the scene. Out of the blue, stumbling into my brain, beautiful and strong, too potent to resist.


And who knew? They’re not even Latino.


So, my beloved Candelario, your spell has been broken. For now. I’m going to leave you for a bit and attend to these new guys.


But, Candy, you’ll always hold the distinction of being the hero in my first completed novel. And, yes, I’ll be back for a prequel. Hell, I may even do a sequel. IF you prove yourself and sell. You can’t get something for nothing, mi amigo, so you’ve got to prove you’re worthy of more of my time.


So, for now, Candelario: Adios, mi querido. De dejo pero regreso por ti. (Goodbye, my dear. I will leave you, but I will return for you).