They say diamonds are forever, what about books? I got mad at someone and gave them a piece of mind… on my way to 100,000 words. Someone else got around 50,000. The woman I’ll marry, though? Sing it with me, “A NeverEnding Story.” He Willie Loves You
Tuesday, July 14, 2020
Gospel 013 ~He Willie Loves You~
Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now because I refuse to think otherwise. As is my love for you. If that’s the case, though, why am I still so afraid of losing it, of losing you. The past few weeks, I’ve been hurting over some loss friends… please hear me out. When people leave me, there’s no grouping of my sins, no I’m giving up on you, not even goodbye. So here I am writing the things I needed to say. When I stop, though, I mean there are no more words, links, or when I forget to check for days on end. Writers both fear and relish these two words, “The End.”
“I will eviscerate you in fiction. Every pimple, every character flaw. I was naked for a day; you will be naked for eternity.” – Geoffrey Chaucer – A Knight’s Tale
I’ve told you that writing is my dream and you are too, My Love. Only you’re here, you’re mine and novel-writing, well the words keep coming. My motivations might say you have to love the pain, a writer sits and bleeds upon the page. One day though, let’s assume the current subject matter will fall away, and they’ll be something more. You’ve watched me become one with the music, a slave to the work, a man of silence. I always say this, I’m a hard man to know. That’s one more reason I write and like smart girls, not that you should spend your life learning about me. So that’s a lie because I want to know everything about you. They say that if women came with instructions, no man would read it. Instead, Baby Girl, I choose to write it every day I can.
“Well, you know, Henry Miller said the best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature.” – 500 Days of Summer
It’s not about the money I know, but I want to write the checks and read the bills. Our kids had a library before they even knew how to spell their names. I see my firstborn with his little beard and his every hair turning gray being read to. I look upon all the love letters and poems that I wrote to you. No, you didn’t throw them away, laugh, or use them in a court case at some point, I wonder. You read my book and see those words The End or hell To Be Continued, and you ask how many words will it take? With one, it might take 50,000 thank you, NaNoWriMo. Another might take double or triple. You, My Love, are the song on repeat, my new dream. You, My Baby Doll, will be my never-ending story. He Willie Loves You.
I Will Have No Fear