Limerence, long-term love and short stories

I’ve had this post in my head for a while, and although I’d hoped to publish it on Valentine’s Day, work intervened and I wasn’t able to. However… it’s still February, so the topic of love is still kind of relevant, right?

Red heart zentangle, by Marija Smits

Red heart zentangle, by Marija Smits

Anyway… I’ve written before about how writing a first draft of a book is rather like falling in love, and so I wanted to expand on this. When I recently heard the word ‘limerence’ (which, in essence, means romantic infatuation) I thought it a lovely word and just right for describing my feelings about starting a new piece of writing.

Since the end of last summer I’ve been writing short stories (I wrote four in total) and I thought that the process had parallels with limerence and long-term love. The pre-writing part, where an idea sparks and I begin to work out the plot in my head, is rather like limerence. It’s the bit where I walk around in a daze, smiling to myself, having met what I’m sure must be ‘the one’. Then I write the first draft. It’s exciting and magical, just like the part when you realize the person you are hugely attracted to is also attracted to you. And I experience a real rush of emotion as I come to the end of the first draft knowing that something really special just happened…

There is a brief lull (usually a few days) as I step away from the story and let it settle. This ‘detaching’ is necessary so that I can switch from subjective mode to objective mode, which is needed for the editing.

When I come back to the story and read it with a clearer head, I taste the bittersweet tang that comes with the knowledge that this story has flaws; the limerence has ebbed away and what I am left with is a flawed, yet still worthwhile and valuable story. This is the part where long-term love can (or cannot) begin to grow. I’m pretty good at sticking with it, committing myself to the editing process (which, like long-term relationships, have their charms) but I have to say that on the second or third edit I have to wonder why I’m doing this. Isn’t it easier to quit? Isn’t it easier, and infinitely more lovely to start a new story and fall in love with another all over again? Well, that’s the temptation, isn’t it? But holding on… sticking with that story takes guts and determination and a willingness to find oneself out of one’s depth. Then to carry on and on, putting that story out there, submitting it, coping with rejection and re-submitting it… (This, dear reader, can go on for years — and it is not unlike the challenges that one faces in a relationship when children come along… but I wrote more about that here.) Well, it all takes time and energy and a strength of spirit which isn’t always easy to muster.

So wherever you are in your writing (or relationship!) or business or latest hobby, I (think) I can empathise. And I wish for you what I wish for myself; the wisdom to know when it’s worth holding on; and the courage to hold on when it’s worth doing so.