When I was in the Army we used to say (and I’m sure they still do lol), the best post was the one you just came from, or the one you were on your way to. It was never where you were. Perhaps that was just a self-defense mechanism in a culture that does a lot of moving around. Maybe it was a sign of a more deeply rooted apathy. I wouldn’t care to guess.

I came down here to southern Alabama when I finished training. To say I experienced culture shock would be a huge understatement. I couldn’t wait to move on. It never happened. By the time I got out, I was married and my husband had reenlisted to stay put.

I realized I better learn to love where I was because I wasn’t going anywhere soon. And gradually, I did. I have good friends here, it never snows, and my kids have never switched schools (except for moving up to middle school).  There’s a lot to love there.

Last year I decided it was time to apply this lesson to my writing. It used to go something like this. I’d start a book totally in love with it, but by the middle, I hated it. The last book was better. The next book will be incredible. This book? This book sucks. And that made me as miserable as the first two years I spent here wanting to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

Now when that little negative voice starts up, I step back and take a deep breath.  I find something I still love about it. A character, a scene. It doesn’t matter what as long as it’s enough to make finishing the middle less of a chore. And by the end, I love it again.

Just as I (mostly) love the place the Army transplanted me to.  Who knew those lessons would come in so handy in the rest of my life?