Attachment. That’s the word of the week around here. And I’m not just referring to a type of parenting. I’m referring to a theme in my life at the moment.
Westly is going through another attachment phase. It seems every 6 months or so he gets super clingy and is a little sad to be separated from me. Right now he tears up when I leave him for two hours on Monday to teach art, and when I drop him off at church (which he does love). Now that he’s older I’m able to reason with him. It’s actually really cute, because he gets teary and nods his head yes that he understands Mama will be back and he will be fine. He’s trying to be brave, but he doesn’t like the idea of my leaving him. I know it will pass soon.
Then there’s my attachment to my story I’m writing. More specifically my characters. I was texting with one of my best friends the other day as I was writing Book 5. She told me, “Someone needs to die in this last book.” And I knew she was right. But it was very hard for me to do it, because I tend to get attached to my characters. After all, they’ve been in my life for 5 years now. They’re personal to me. I was a little teary as I wrote in a revision that ended a character’s life. I’m trying to be brave, for I know it’s the right move for the story.
I guess I can’t blame Westly now.