Vinny has never really been interested in my writing, but he still manages to ask me a few times a week when I'm going to be done. Last night we were watching a movie and he reached over to my desk and grabbed one of my composition notebooks. This particular one had notes for a very raw version of Eleven. Now don't get me wrong, I'd love it if he'd read TFI or even TiC. But something about him looking at something so unediting and well…bad… that really got to me. Needless to say I grabbed it out of his hand after five straight minutes of him keeping it from me.
He asked me what had gotten into me. I didn't really have an answer for him at the time. But thinking back, I realize why I did that. Yes, I want him to read TFI, because it's done. Because I'm ready for my baby to go out into the world. If I still had reservations about someone reading it, it wouldn't be ready. But Eleven is still an infant. I can't just dress it in a suit and tie, strap a briefcase to its wrist and turn it loose on the world. Blimey!
It makes me wonder if anyone else feels that way.
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