I’ve learned something about myself in writing this story. I’m not one of those people that can write a novel based on a true story. I’m good at fiction; I’m good at nonfiction. I am not good at any sort of hybrid. It comes out…well, like this did. Awkward, repetitive prose that has bits of humor stashed in it, but overall, it’s just trying too hard. It’s too hard for me to meld the two. I need facts and I need fiction, and never the twain shall meet.
I also need to stop using cliches. I used them so often that my narrator called another character out on it. I’m meta-chastising myself.
I’ve also learned that I can do this. Even with the two jobs and 50-60 hour work week, I can do this. I don’t have to quit one of my jobs to make writing work. I mean, I might not ever get paid to write, but at least I will love it. I have done it for free all my life, so what is the loss really if I continue to do it for free? I can write and have two jobs until writing replaces one or both of them. I can actually do this!
I’ve been reminded that my worst days writing are better than my best days teaching.