If you are reading this, know I am not around. I am not here. I am off to Gaborone to Author's Day at Westwood International School. This is my third year of attendance and actually I'm looking forward to it. The librarian, Joy, who organises the event is such a -well- joy, and I look forward to seeing her and reading to the kids. My only regret, as always, is that more schools do not do this. This year though I intend to write about the day in my new column and hopefully other schools can get an idea and more such wonderful events will sprout up.
But that is not what this post is about though. That will be for another day.
I'm currently working on a novel, the project I decided to complete in Egypt. It is about a couple who go through quite a terrible ordeal (do you see how cagey I am being?) after the wife has an affair. As I'm writing, I feel so attached to my protagonist. I feel like what is happening to her, is actually happening to me. I wrote a chapter yesterday about the first phone conversation she has with her daughter after her husband chases her from their home. Through the whole chapter, I was weeping, my shirt was wet with tears. I felt like it was me, that I was banned from my home and my children for a stupid mistake that unfortunately creates a chain reaction of terrible consequences.
Are you ever swept away with your story, lost in such a way that what you're writing becomes more real than what is actually around you? I'd be interested to know.