How I wrote a book, got it published, and changed my world. Or something. Part seven!

Then?

I had to go home and tell my husband I had written a book.

Okay, to be totally fair, he must be extraordinarily unobservant or something because I was clearly writing a book. Evidence is as follows:

1) I was often hunched over the computer.
2) Cursing.
3) I often printed sheets of paper, read those sheets, marked on them with a red pen, and threw them down in disgust.
4) While cursing.
5) On more than one occasion I actually said, "Hey Jason, I'm writing a book". To which he would respond, "That's great babe. Where's the TiVo remote?"

So, he had some kind of awareness, somewhere in his injured brain, that I was writing a book.

But I never told him what it was about.


Which? Could possibly be a problem.


Because, well. The book is about the very narrow period of time between which I was divorced from the sperm donor and met Jason. And within that time period I wasn't exactly what you would call a choir girl. Not that I was a raging slut or anything. I wasn't.

But Jason, who loves and possibly adores me, does not like to hear about such things. Even when they are minor and told in a comedic manner.

He also tells himself I never poop. So. You know. He's pretty much delusional.


So when he came home he and I sat down together and we talked. I told him what it was about.

He got this look on his face and said something like, "Well, neither one of us were virgins when we met".

And I got THIS look on MY face and said something like, "Jason. For the love of God. It's not a sex book!"

Then he looked relieved.


We talked, as we tend to do, about how this could potentially change things for us. Because for the most part, what we have is pretty good. My husband is an extremely private person. Not private like Dolly Parton's husband or whatever because I don't think anyone, including Dolly, has seen him for like sixteen years and Jason is quite visible and, in fact, drags my happy butt around and forces me to talk to people.

But he's private.

And I love him.

And I loved him even more when he said to me, "I would never let my issues get in the way of your dreams".



That right there? Just might be true love.


So. I told him. It was all good.



That was October 22nd, 2008.



Which began the most agonizing fifteen days of my life.





To be continued...