It's a strange thing, writing. It empowers you. Transports you.
It's possible that it empowered and transported me a little too much last week.
Now, I like baseball. I watched the Red Sox excessively in 2007 and 2008. But as you can tell, its been a while since I watched baseball. Matt and I have gone to a few games here and there, and sometimes when my extended family gets together, we play. I mean, everyone there remembers how funny and sad it was to witness my dad pull his hamstring. (Man, is that guy a good sport.)
While I like baseball, I'm not really experienced in it. But the book I've been working on, Violet Intrigue, features a character named Ellie, and she is a fantastic ball player. According to her dad, the best in Texas.
Now that you have the context, here is what happened. I took Adilyn, my five-year-old, to the baseball assessment. The director called over the parents and started by saying that they needed someone to volunteer to coach the teams.
By nature, I'm a bit impulsive. And hasty, And ambitious.
But I surprised even myself when my hand shot up and I shrugged before saying cooly, "I'll do it." My husband's face was priceless.
I credit the confidence the book to I just finished. I'd been spending so much time writing her character lately, that I think I forgot how little Lara knows about baseball.
Fortunately, the coach's training and mandatory 2-hours of instructional videos have also emboldened me, but I'm still a little bit nervous. By no definition am I a T-ball expert.
But hey, its a learning experience.
And I'm sure I've made Ellie Hudson very proud.