snow driving
I'm a wimp when it comes to driving in the snow. I grew up in San Diego and didn't see my first snowfall until I went to school at S.U.N.Y. Purchase at age twenty-one, so obviously I never learned to drive in it. Add to that the fact that snow driving in Seattle, with all its hills and undprepared roads and drivers, is a game of Russian roulette, and maybe you'll understand why I'll do just about anything to avoid being caught behind the wheel in the snow.
Well, guess what? Yesterday the weather forecasters were predicting a big snowfall anywhere from two o'clock on. The Department of Transportation sent out warnings, asking people to get home early if at all possible. But two o'clock came and went, then three, four, and five, and still no snow.
At six-thrity the weather was still cloudy and dry, so I decided the forecasters had been wrong and headed off for my book club meeting. I noticed a few flakes falling as I walked from my car to my friend's front door, but they were so small and wet, I thought, "no big deal." We had a lovely meeting discussing THE STORY OF EDGAR SAWTELLE and eating homemade cranberry bread, then about nine o'clock we wrapped up. I stepped out the front door, and ....snow!
My nightmare had come true: I was going to have to make my way home along streets covered with the slippery white stuffl. It was a white-knuckle drive all the way, with me going twenty miles an hour and saying my prayers every time I fishtailed. But I made it.
Sitting at my computer today, I started to think about how writing a novel is like driving in the snow. It's scary as hell, and you're not sure you're going to make it to the end, but you set your fingers to the keyboard and do it anyway. Every once in awhile you swerve off course and your heart leaps into your throat and you tell yourself you should never have attempted this crazy thing, but somehow you get back on track. And when you finally make it to The End safe and sound, you thank your lucky stars and pump up your courage to go back and do it all again.