Wild Things Visitor

Every so often, something I wrote on August 2, 2020 – Wild Things, is viewed multiple times on this blog, in a pattern. I don’t know who this person (or bot) is. Or why this happens. But it happens 2-3 times per visit. There’s really no rhyme or reason, from what I can see. It’s a direct link. What do I mean by that?

Well, when I share anything I write to Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, etc., I can see where/how specific posts get hits from those links. For instance, one of my frequently visited posts is “I Want to Age Like Sea Glass.” It’s a beautiful piece written by Bernadette Noll. But I can tell when folks find that link elsewhere. It’s a popular link from my Pinterest account and Google images, for instance. Wild Things is not even a post that gets spam hits. I definitely have posts that spammers seem to like to hit. I’ve had basically no spam hits to that post.

Why should this matter? Because Wild Things is deeply personal and honestly, the person it was written for should know it was written for or about him. When I wrote that, I felt a novel churning, though. The novel is disconnected from my own story. I’ve shared before that other novels I’ve written or am writing are more intimately connected to my own life. But sometimes, as a writer, you can hear a song, write something that’s not fiction, or witness something – that sparks a fire of inspiration, to write something fiction. The connections to the novel can be minimal in the end, to the original inspiration. I saw a baby on an airplane shaking its little PJ covered foot, merrily while being fed a bottle. This was a Christmas flight home to California – maybe 15 years or more ago. I felt some grief over my own miscarriage, in that moment. But that moment, so unconnected from my own life, became Chasing Hope. That novel is nothing like my life nor anyone else’s I know. But, it was a spark of my own loss, that got the creativity churning.

That’s what Wild Things did for me. The novel that has taken shape since the summer of 2020, looks nothing like what it started out as. And it’s nothing like my life. It’s hard to explain. But I’m sure other writers get it. But I digress. Every single time I see Wild Things viewed on my blog, my heart takes a beating because of its subject. A very painful beating, at that.

If you are seeing this, and you are my Wild Things visitor, and you don’t know me from Adam – I would love to hear what it is about this post that interests you. To be honest, I’m thinking about dumping this novel after more than a year working on it. I’m considering putting it and all of its versions, into my laptop’s recycle bin. If something about this writing sticks with you, I’d so love to ask for your feedback on what it is about it, that sticks with you. You can contact me at my social media links, or at elaina@ elaina-avalos dot com.

If you are the man that it was written for, I’m going to challenge you to either not come back or break your silence. I’ve proven – more than proven – my ability to understand, be patient, and to care. But I’d like to get over you and move on with my life. I currently refuse to take it down, because it’s writing that I believe in. But I will if I have to.

All I’m really asking for, my friend – is what I deserve. And after everything, I deserve to not hear silence, on the figurative line. I deserve a response. I deserve that much. And you know this.

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