Sunday, February 7, 2010

Don't Buy Me Roses

I’m a cheap date. I don’t expect anything for V-day. When I see a big, glass vase full of red roses, I think two thoughts: 1) these things are absolutely doused in pesticides 2) how much of our grocery money did you piss away on this?

I love chocolates, but considering I’m trying to lose the last of the baby weight, chocolates are a cruel gift right now. Cards are lame, except for the Elmo cards my preschooler has been clutching to her chest since we bought them two weeks ago.

No, if you want to say you love me, you give me the thing I most need right now: time to write!

This is a difficult thing to give, especially when you have a full time job and two children under age 3. Yet, a certain someone has given this to me, not just for V-day or special occasions, but many days a week for almost two years now, from the time when my novel was just one sentence scrawled in my notebook to today, when it’s 300 pages, five-times revised, and pretty darn good, in my heavily biased opinion.  Unfortunately, I can't make any promises that the book will sell, that we'll reap any financial rewards from this endeavor.  All I can promise is to finish it, and to keep writing more, and better, things. 

Buying roses is the easy route to saying "I love you."  Happy V-day to the person who doesn't take the easy route.

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