First Fans

In the midst of my first week of the school year, my son reminded me that I have another job that he’s a bit more interested in me completing.

This summer I began writing a middle grade fantasy novel. I was feeling a little less than creative with the stories I was working on, and I thought it would be a way to loosen my imagination and my anxiety over not writing anything worth reading. Basically, I was looking for something to relieve the pressure that I was putting myself through.

But at some point in the summer, Andrew began wondering what I was spending hours each day working on. (He had a fascination with computers this summer that had him questioning how long it took UPS to deliver my new computer, so he could get my old one. It amounted to the same feeling that “Are we there yet?” amounts to on an eleven hour drive to Disney World.) I explained to him that I was writing a children’s story that we could read together when I finished.

Daily, I caught him glancing over my shoulder. He began asking questions about the story and the characters. I shared a bit with him, and his questions grew. I’d feel his presence behind me and turn to see him peering over my shoulder trying to get a glimpse at what I was working on. He wanted to know when it would be finished.

When I finished the rough draft, I told him that it would be awhile before I finished working on the revisions. Then school started, and I had to put it aside to get myself organized.

While checking some student work this week, Andrew and his cousin burst into the house excitedly discussing something. Apparently, Andrew had been filling him in on the adventure story he’s waiting to read, and now they both want to know when it will be done. They bombarded me with questions like what’s the title, what happens, is it a series, etc.

The ten seconds of excitement at having my first fans soon gave way to the pressure of an uncompleted manuscript. I’ve taught children for twelve years, and they certainly won’t hesitate to tell you that something is horrible. I think I’m going to get back to that second job. I certainly don’t want to disappoint these two eight year olds.