It's my Friday/Saturday today from work, also known as the day I stay up for 26-28 hours. I was cleaning my house when for some unknown reason I started thinking about my first cat, Glitter. I was six when I had her, and seven when I was forced to part with her. While I was vacuuming, I couldn't stop thinking about the story of her and how someone would become a Crazy Cat Lady. I've often wondered about that. How many cat's does it take to become this person, do you have to be crazy to do it, and why does someone get to the point where they are this infamous crazy person? Is there some point in life where you just decide, to hell with it- I'm going to be the crazy cat lady!
I had to write it down, before I forgot the direction of my story.
I wrote, remembering the pure, childish joy that was quickly followed by the most agonizing pain I could imagine at the time. I spent a half an hour typing and weeping. I want to write this book, I think it would be an amazing production, but I honestly don't know if I ever will. As much as I'll try to make it a work of fiction, too much of myself will be put into it and I don't know if I'm ready for that.
I've realized this past year that there are bits and pieces of myself and those around me that go into my books. Most of my characters have base personality traits with people I know, and then their complete personality blossoms from there. This book however, would strip me raw. It would reveal things that are painful and hard to deal with. I'm not sure if certain people would ever forgive me for my opinions of them as I was growing up.
I don't know if I want people knowing that much about me.
So, for the moment, it will sit in my file with the other 12 books I'm working on. I'll hold it in my thoughts and decide at a later date what to do with it. For now, I'm content with my 8 babies sleeping around the house as I work in the quiet serenity that is the Crazy Cat Lady's house.