Betsy Horvath

Category: Writing

  • Unknotting The Knots

    You may be interested to know that one reason there hasn’t been a blog post for a few weeks is because, amazingly enough, Betsy actually IS working.  But it turned out that the work she was doing had gotten all tangled and snarled, like a ball of thread that had become hopelessly knotted. 

    Then one day, when the ball of thread Betsy was pushing would not roll any further because it was so knotted and snarled and tangled, Betsy sat down and started working on unraveling the situation.

    Here’s how it went…

     

    Betsy is walking up a tall mountain.  She is carrying a ball that is really just a huge wad of tangled threads.  A single thread is coming from the ball and winding off behind her.  As she walks, the thread continues to unwind to show her where she’s been.  But it’s been getting difficult to keep moving.  The massive tangle in Betsy’s hands prevents the thread from unwinding smoothly.  Sometimes Betsy has to yank at it to keep it going.  Her progress has become full of stops and starts.

    Unwind…yank…pull…unwind.

    Then, suddenly, Betsy can’t go any further.  The thread is stuck.  She yanks.  Nothing.  She pulls.  Nothing.  She twists and turns.  Nothing. “Oh, for heavens sakes.”  Betsy sits down on the mountainside and pulls at the thread that has been unwinding behind her, trying to dislodge it from the tangle.  It doesn’t move.

    “Great.”

    When she looks closer, she sees that the thread has become impossibly knotted, just like a fine necklace that’s been carelessly dropped into a jewelry box.

    In fact, this exact thing happened to Betsy once.  She had tossed a necklace into the bottom of her jewelry box without thought.  The chain of the necklace was so fine that it became knotted almost at once, and the knot was so difficult to see that Betsy almost gave up trying to get it free. But the necklace was precious to her, so she persevered and was eventually successful.  It just took a lot of time.  Does she want to spend the time here?

    But this tangle of threads is precious too, isn’t it?

    Betsy picks at the clump of knots with her fingernail with no result.

    “I see the knots, but they are such a mess that I can’t see where to pull to get them out,” she mutters.

    Betsy picks up her tangle of threads, looks at it.  Holds it up in the air above her head.  Scratches at it, tries to tease it apart, but she can’t make an opening.

    “What am I supposed to do now?”

    “Keep working at it.” 

    Betsy turns to see the Muse is walking towards her, flowing up the mountain.

    “Keep working at it!  Do you see how knotted it all is in there?  This is a waste of time.”

    “Well, I suppose you can throw this mess away and go back to the beginning.  Start again.”

    “I don’t want to do that either.”

    Muse settles on the ground beside Betsy.  Raises an eyebrow.

    Betsy sighs and goes back to work on the knots.  She picks at the tight thread until there’s a little leeway and she can get her fingernail into the first knot.  When it loosens enough, she pulls it apart.

    That’s not going to help much.  The knot is loose, but when she starts things rolling again, it will only tighten up and be as bad as it was before.

    Betsy thinks for a moment.

    “You know what you have to do,” the Muse says.

    Betsy does.  With a sigh, she starts pulling the string that has been unwinding behind her as she has climbed the mountain.  She gathers it into a neat little ball, only a tiny fraction the size of the tangle she’d been holding (she hadn’t gotten very far before the knots stopped her).  Once she has it all wrapped up, it’s pretty easy to loosen the knot and slip the little ball through the loops.  Then the knot is gone and the thread is smooth in her hand.

    She does this for the next knot.  And the next.  And the next.

    This goes on for quite some time.  Some of the knots are tricky and require a lot of thought.  But eventually, it looks like the knots are out.  Not all of them, of course.  Some are still embedded into the thread itself.  But the big ones, the ones that were making the thread a tangled mess, are relatively smooth.

    “Good job,” the Muse tells her.

    “I guess, but now I’ve lost my way,” Betsy says.  “Since I had to pull up the thread that was behind me, I don’t know where I came from.”

    “Roll that ball and let the thread that was behind you go back to the beginning,” the Muse tells her.

    Betsy does as she suggests and the little ball of thread rolls back down the mountain.  Betsy frowns.

    “But that’s not right.  It didn’t go back to where it was before.”

    “Of course not.  Where it was before is what created all of those knots as you got further along.”

    “Oh.”  Betsy frowns.  “So you’re saying I wasn’t quite on the right path.”

    “No.  And that got everything all tangled and snarled.  But now you’re smoothed out and ready to roll again.”

    “Will it stay that way?” Betsy demands.

    The Muse shrugs.  “Probably not.  Sometimes you have to work out a few knots before you really know where you’re going.”

    “I guess.” Betsy sighs and starts moving again.

     

    To be continued…

     

     

     

     

     

  • Stuck and Unstuck

    When we last left Betsy, she was shouting the plans she had for her writing business from the rooftops.  But then…nothing. 

    Hmmm.

    In all honesty, part of the reason for the nothingness was an extremely bad cold that hit Betsy HARD right after she made those bold proclamations.  Bad colds have a tendency to do that kind of thing.  In the same way that household appliances, such as water heaters, break right at exactly the worst time.

    And part of the reason for the nothingness was that once she stops writing blog posts, Betsy sometimes has a hard time getting back into them.  Deciding what to say is a bit difficult when she gets out of the flow.

    And PART of the reason she vanished is because Betsy told herself that she didn’t want to use her creative time and energy to write blog posts, although that was undeniably an excuse to make herself feel better about being lazy.

    But still, there should have been some word by now, right?  Has Betsy been working at all?  Has something gone wrong?

    Let’s see…

     

    *Betsy is walking alone in a dark forest, in a thicket of vines and thorns and weeds that claw and bite and obstruct her way* *Trees rise before her in the darkness, their branches knit together overhead to block the sky*  *Dense shrubbery bars her way*  *Roots and rocks trip her up as she tries to walk forward*  *Betsy falls*  *Forces herself to stand up again*  *Holds hands in front of her to try to find her way, rips at the plants to make space to get through*

    *Betsy stops*

    *She turns to the left, to the right, in a circle* *Nothing* *Just darkness* *And weeds* *So many weeds*

    I don’t know where I am! *Betsy claps her hands to her face* I’m lost!  I’m alone!  I don’t know where I am!  I don’t know where I’m going!

    Sheesh.  Drama queen much?

    Muse?  Is that you?  *Betsy blinks into the darkness*

    Who the heck did you think it was?

    I thought I was alone. *Betsy holds out her hands* *Catches the Muse’s robe*  I can’t see you.  I can’t see anything.

    Why did you stop?

    Why?  Why?  *Betsy’s fingers clamp down on the robe*  Because I’m lost.  Duh.

    Hmm. *The Muse sounds contemplative* How did that happen?  I thought you were following a path.  I thought you had everything all planned out before you started writing this book.  That’s what you said anyway.

    *Betsy pouts* *Lets her hands drop* I did…well, I thought I did.  But once I started, the path just faded away and all of this undergrowth popped up. Maybe I started at the wrong point and I need to go back and start over.

    You’re doubting yourself.

    Maybe.  *Betsy pouts* *Kicks at weeds*

    And BECAUSE you’re doubting yourself, you made some wrong turns.

    Maybe. *Betsy pouts* *Lip wobbles*

    And MAYBE because you didn’t believe you had the right starting point and then you didn’t believe you had the right ending point, you got yourself stuck in the middle.  And now you don’t know where you came from or where you were going because you didn’t trust the path you’d laid out.  So you stopped.

    Maybe.  *Betsy pouts*  But I was walking forward and this…thicket just sprang up and blocked the path! And the trees sprang up and blocked the sky!  And then I couldn’t see where I was supposed to go or what was ahead so I didn’t know if I was heading in the right direction!

    You might have been heading in the wrong direction, but it was still a direction.  As opposed to, you know, now.  When you are heading in NO direction.

    I guess.  *Betsy pouts*

    And all of these plants didn’t just spring up out of nowhere.  Their seeds had to be sown first.

    Oh.  *Betsy thinks*  So…you’re saying I planted them?

    What do you think?

    I think it’s not fair.

    So?

    *Betsy pouts, but she also thinks*  So, maybe I got lost in writing because I’m doubting and second-guessing myself.  And maybe because I’m doubting and second-guessing myself, I got stuck.  And maybe if I’m doubting and second-guessing myself in my writing, it’s because I’m doubting and second-guessing myself in other places, too.  And that makes me stuck all over the place.  And when I’m stuck, I’m not going anywhere.

    Your writing is a reflection of you.  Weeds don’t just stay in one part of the garden.  If they’re there, they get into it all and choke everything out.

    Oh. *Betsy thinks* Then how do I get unstuck?

    How about you just take a step forward?  One little step.

    *Betsy tries* *Vines wrap themselves around her ankles to hold her*

    It’s hard!

    Duh.  But you might want to know that you’re almost at the end of this draft.  You’re almost finished with this part of the project.  A few more hours of dedicated struggle and you’ll be there.

    Really?  *Betsy blinks*  I don’t see anything.

    Maybe not up ahead, but turn around.

    *Betsy turns*  *Looks behind her*  *Sees a path laid through the weeds and the forest*  *It’s broken in places, but it’s there, glowing in the darkness*

    Oh!

    See?  You actually did make progress.  The path is rough, it needs work, maybe it needs a lot of work, but it’s basically there.

    The weeds—

    They’re trying to choke you out.  They’re trying to stop you.  That’s the test.  Can you keep going in spite of the weeds you planted yourself?  Can you keep pressing through when you are doubting yourself and don’t think you’re getting anywhere?

    So I should keep going?  Stop second-guessing?

    Yes.  *Betsy still can’t see her, but she knows the Muse is smiling*  Keep going.  Just move.  Just write.  Worry about the details later.

    *Betsy thinks*  Okay.

     

    To be continued…

     

     

  • Confidence

    I’ve been writing a lot of “Quest” blog posts recently, so I thought I’d change it up a little bit this week and chat about something that’s been much on my mind.

    Confidence.

    One of the things that’s surprised me a little about this past year has been the recognition of just how fragile confidence can be, and how easily it can slip through our fingers.

    Confidence is vital on so many levels – physical, mental, emotional. In my case, a good deal of my life changed in a very short amount of time. I knew it would be difficult to find my way again, but I didn’t realize how much the sudden changes would impact my confidence regarding my dreams and hopes for the future.

    I’m not talking about my writing per se. I’m pretty confident about the writing itself. But writing—putting words down on paper or a computer screen—is only one part of my goal. The real goal is to live a life that is authentic, and for me, that happens to mean telling stories and getting them out into the world.

    I think that for all creative pursuits (not just in the arts, but in business, teaching, everything), the first step, the most important step, is believing you can do it. More, believing that you SHOULD do it and that you have the right to do it. That this creative pursuit is just as valid as working at a regular job.

    Not to say that there’s anything wrong with working at a regular job—far from it! We need to survive and support ourselves. But the creative pursuit has to have as much weight in our minds as the regular job does. The regular job is not better because it is the standard, the creative job is not lesser simply because it comes from inside ourselves.

    And that’s where I’ve been having trouble with confidence, I think.

    To live creatively and uniquely, you have to be able to see the goal, you have to be able to feel it, and you have to know that you can and should move towards it. I’ll be telling stories until I die – I started before kindergarten and I’m not going to stop now. But if I lose my confidence, I won’t take them any further than putting words down on the computer screen. I won’t reach my full potential.

    We who are pursuing a goal that is slightly out of the ordinary, have to create the vision of that goal and believe in it.  I not only have to chisel a rock to unleash a finished story, I have to create the rock in the first place.  And I have to move towards the potential I see regardless of what anybody else says.  At that stage, nobody else can see it anyway—it comes from inside me. I birth it. Then I mold it.

    That all requires confidence. Confidence that you CAN birth it. Confidence that you CAN mold it. Confidence that you CAN dream it. Confidence that, regardless of whether or not the end products will be considered “good,” they are worth pursuing.

    This year has been difficult, and that’s shaken me. My body works differently now (the steel plates in my leg are great weather forecasters and sometimes standing is interesting). My finances are different. My responsibilities are different. My life is different.

    But the goal is still there. And the question is—can I find the confidence I need to reach for it in the middle of a shifting world? Or will I let doubt push me down?

    And isn’t that the true test for all of us? Aren’t we all asked to have the confidence to become more than what we already are?

    Falling back into the routine, shutting off the creative parts of ourselves, is easy. So we have to find the confidence to do the thing we feel like we were born to do, even when life smacks us around a bit.

    So now I’m like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music singing my way to where I need to be and trying not to run back to the safety of the convent.  I’ve been a little stuck, but now that I realize it’s a confidence issue, I know what I need to do. I need to pick up my guitar and my garment bag and skip down the sidewalk.

    “I have confidence in sunshine…I have confidence in rain…I have confidence that spring will come again, besides which you see I have confidence in me…”

    Come on! Let’s go!

    *skips away*

     

     

  • Over The Edge

    When we last left Betsy, she was pushing the boulder of her work in progress up the mountain of her aspirations.  She’d been doing that for quite a while.  Quite a while.  But the last time we all got together, we found that Betsy had almost made it to the top!  In fact, she was on the verge of pushing her boulder over the edge!  The end was in sight!

    Except…she wasn’t QUITE there.  And close only counts in horseshoes.  Until that boulder is over the edge, there’s a chance it never will be.

    To make matters worse, Harry, the white rabbit who is Betsy’s Guide on her Quest to become a successful independent author had gone missing for several weeks.  So had the Muse.  And that meant Betsy was alone.  On her own.  And we all know how well THAT usually works out.

    So what’s going on?  Will Betsy ever push the boulder over the edge?  Has she finally reached the tipping point?  Or will the boulder roll back and crush her?

    Let’s see…

     

    *Betsy stands behind the boulder of her work in progress, hands on the stone* *They are poised on the edge of the cliff of her aspirations* *Betsy does not move* *The boulder does not move* *The cliff does not move*

    You don’t have the guts. *The boulder rocks a little*  Do you?  Come on!  Come at me bro!  Are you afraid?

    *Betsy shakes her head* I’m not afraid!

    Oh yeah?  *The boulder taunts her* Prove it!  We’re on the edge!  You’re sick of me!  You can’t stand me anymore!  But here you are, still tweaking.  *Boulder shakes its backside at Betsy* Well, I’m twerking.  What do you think of that?

    I just want to make sure you’re the best you can be!

    Sure you do.  *Boulder sneers*.  I’ll never be done.  You’ll never push me over.  That’s the truth, isn’t it? ISN’T IT!

    No!

    YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!

    YES, I CAN!  *Betsy shoves the boulder*

    Hey!  Well, what do you knoooowwww…..  *Boulder rolls and falls over the side of the cliff of aspiration, tumbling down the path to an editor.

    TAKE THAT!  *Betsy dusts off her hands*  Don’t have the guts.  I’ll show you guts!  *Pauses* *Thinks* Wait a minute.  There is that scene…and the dialogue isn’t exactly right in the beginning…and what about character arcs?  Are they strong enough?  Do I have a theme?  Do I have a message?  Is it even worth reading at all?  Wait!  Come back!  You might not be good enough yet!

    *Betsy looks over the side of the cliff. Boulder has been swept away by the submission process and is now a small speck in the distance* WAIT!   *Straightens*. Maybe there’s still time.  If I send an email and say I’ve made a mistake, I could—

    Or you could just let it go.

    *Betsy spins around* Harry!  Where the heck have you been?

    Around. *Harry hops forward* *Adjusts waistcoat* *Checks pocketwatch* Well, that only took for freaking ever!  I didn’t think you’d ever kick that thing over the side.

    Fine, fine.  Whatever.  *Betsy turns back to the cliff*  I have to go catch that boulder before it gets too much further in the process.

    No, you don’t.

    I really do.  *Betsy hangs over the edge of the cliff*  See that part there?  That might be a hole or a crack.  And that other part isn’t smooth at all.

    You can’t even see it from here.

    No, no.  I can see it.  I know what it looks like.

    *Harry grabs Betsy’s arm when she would go running off* You don’t know anything.

    Of course I do! *Betsy frowns at him* I know every little bit of that boulder.  I hate every little bit of it because I know it so well.

    You can’t see it.

    Sure I can. *Betsy points* It’s there.

    Look, here are the facts.  You can’t see it anymore because you’ve been looking at it for so long.  And because you’ve been looking at it for so long, you think it’s horrible.  But it’s probably not as horrible as you think it is, and it probably doesn’t need as many changes as you think it does.  So you need to just stop messing with it until you hear what the editor says.

    *Betsy winces* What if she hates it?  Honestly, I could bring it back and fix—

    No!  If she hates it, she hates it and then you’ll have to decide whether or not you believe her.  But either way,  you have to move on.  If you keep holding onto this boulder, it’s only an excuse not to work on any others.

    *Betsy chews her lip*  So, let it go?

    *Harry nods* Let it go.

    And start the next one?

    And start the next one.

    And don’t worry if there’s a hole or a crack or a crevice?

    *Harry shrugs* If there is, you’ll find out soon enough and that’s when you’ll fix it.

    And it’s too late anyway because it’s already over the cliff.

    Yes.  *Harry beams* Good work.

     

    To be continued…

     

     

     

  • Almost There

    When we last left Betsy, she was busy facing her doubts and fears, pushing the boulder of her work in progress up the mountain of her ambitions.  Harry, the white rabbit who is the Guide on Betsy’s Quest to become a successful independent author, is nowhere to be seen.  The Muse is absent, too.  It’s just Betsy and Boulder, mano a mano, as it were.

    Now we see that Betsy has finally (FINALLY) reached the top of the mountain of her ambitions, but she has not yet pushed the boulder over the edge.  Instead, Betsy is sitting on a grassy knoll next to her boulder, looking out towards the sunrise of her hopes and dreams.  She appears peaceful and satisfied as opposed to her normal insanity (although she IS talking to a boulder, so there’s that), but one has to wonder why she’s sitting and contemplating instead of pushing.  What in the world is going on now?

    Let’s see…

     

    *Betsy sits in the soft grass* *Leans back against some rocks* *Looks out at the beautiful sunrise* *Sighs*

    What are you doing?  *The boulder, sitting in the grass beside her, appears puzzled* *Well, as puzzled as a boulder can appear*

    I’m savoring the fact that I’m done with you, boulder.  *Betsy props her elbow up on the boulder’s craggy side*

    What are you talking about?  You still have to finish your final read through.  Then you have to get me cleaned up format-wise and shipped off to an editor. 

    Yes, yes.  *Betsy waves it away* But I got you all the way here to the top of the mountain.

    You really shouldn’t even be taking the time to write this blog post.  You should be working on me. 

    *Betsy frowns over at the boulder* Can’t you just let me enjoy this little victory?

    No!  *The boulder appears agitated*  Because it’s not a victory yet!  It’s too early!

    *Betsy pouts* Well, when CAN I enjoy it then?

    *The boulder rocks in frustration* When you’ve finished!  Once you actually take that last step and push me over the edge of the cliff so I roll wild, roll free.  Until you get to the point in the process where I’m REALLY finished, you’re just procrastinating!  Again!

    *Betsy straightens* *Glares* You’re almost at the edge of the cliff, aren’t you?  You’ll be rolling free soon.  I only stopped because I wanted to write a blog post to let people know that I wasn’t sitting alone rocking in a corner.  So sue me if I got a few days behind winterizing the Palatial Horvath Estate and figuring out how to be the most productive.  I’ve actually been working, gosh darn it!

    *If a boulder could sigh with resignation, this one would* Fine.  Yes.  But you know as well as I do that this is the most dangerous part of any project.  Right now it’s very easy for you to tell yourself that I’m “almost finished” and not take the final step.  Then I’ll fall to the wayside for weeks!   

    *Betsy throws up her hands*  Don’t be ridiculous!  You’ll be finished in two days.  Three tops.  Maybe four.  Unless something else comes up I need to deal with first.  The point is, you’re there.  You’re almost there.  Practically there.  Basically there.  So close I can practically taste it.

    Close only counts in horseshoes.  You have to follow through, finish me up, and push me over, for heaven’s sakes!  Chop, chop!  God knows you’re not getting any younger!

    All right!  *Betsy scowls* *Pouts* *Lowers her head* *Plucks some grass* *Studies her shoes instead of the beautiful sunrise* Maybe I’m a little concerned.

    *The boulder really does sigh this time* Why now?

    Because I’ve been writing you, and writing ABOUT you here in the blog for so long.  I might have built up some false expectations.

    Look, I’m just an ordinary little boulder. Nothing special. Not a massive War and Peace boulder or anything. I’m a little boulder you wrote for your newsletter subscribers and hopefully I’ll be out in other places eventually, too. But do you see that sunrise? *The boulder tries to gesture*

    Yes.

    That is the sunrise of your hopes and dreams.  But that sun will never fully come up unless you finish me. 

    *Betsy frowns* Now who’s got an ego?

    Ego, shmego.  I know that I’m an ordinary little boulder.  Nothing much at all.  But I AM special to you because finishing me is one step closer to that sunrise I’d like to point to and can’t because I don’t have any arms.  Or hands.

    *Betsy thinks* And finishing you will be proof to myself that I can finish something again in spite of the year I’ve had.

    And proof to yourself that you can create other little boulders to push up other little mountains.

    And even if not many people read you, a few of them will and some of them might even like you.

    And I’m the first step forward into the dawn of your life as you want it to exist.

    And I do have plans for you.  And for the other boulders that come after you and for the boulders that came before you.

    And even though we are just little, ordinary boulders, if there are enough of us, we are mighty.

    And maybe I have some plans for myself, too.

    So? 

    *Betsy gets up* *Starts pushing*  Almost there.

     

    To be continued…

     

     

  • Fear at the Finish Line

    When we last left Betsy, she had fallen while trying to climb the hill of her aspirations, tripped by an unexpected mundane world disruption.  This was a disruption she should have seen coming—in fact, she DID see it coming—but she tripped on it anyway.  And when Betsy face-planted on the hill, she dropped the boulder of her work in progress which she had been carrying to the top.  The boulder flew into the air, landed on Betsy’s back, and broke into a hundred pieces.  Fortunately, Harry, Betsy’s Guide on her Quest to become a successful independent author / entrepreneur, carries super glue in his pack of essentials.

    Now the boulder has been glued back together, but Betsy appears to be alone.  Harry is nowhere to be seen.  The Muse has gone MIA.  Have they finally given up on Betsy and headed off for parts unknown? Is it up to Betsy to get herself off her butt and over the finish line?

    Oh, dear.  That can’t be good. 

    Let’s see what’s happening…

     

    *Betsy sits alone on the hillside next to her super-glued boulder*  *Looks to the east*  *Looks to the west* *Looks to the north and south*  *Nothing*

    Hello?

    *Hills echo back her cry*  Hellooooooo oooo ooooooo

    Harry?

    *The hills echo*  Harryyyy yyyy yyyy?

    Muse?

    Muuuussseeee ssssss ssssss

    I’m alone.

    Alone…. alone…. Alonnnnneee….

    *Betsy chews on her lip for a moment, then gets to her feet*  *She contemplates the hill of her aspirations rising above her* *Contemplates how far she has already come*  *Contemplates the boulder of her work in progress, which looks a little different now that it has been glued together and yet is lovely for all that*

    I’m alone, and I have to decide whether or not I want to pick you up again, boulder.  I have to decide if I’ve made a big mistake.  If I’ve been wasting my time.  After all, you were something that was supposed to be written quickly—you weren’t supposed to take nearly this long.  Maybe you’re not worth finishing.

    *If a boulder could scratch its ear nonchalantly, this one would*

    I mean, yes, I have learned a lot by working on you.  I’ve learned how to plot more efficiently, and I’ll have learned some valuable lessons as I move on to my next full-length novel.  I can’t buy the experience you’ve given me.

    *The boulder shrugs, metaphorically speaking, of course*

    Maybe that’s all you need to be.  Maybe I don’t have to go to the trouble of finishing you.  Maybe I should start that full-length novel and let you be the way you are until I get around to finishing you sometime later.

    *The boulder remains silent*

    On the other hand, the top of the hill isn’t that far away.  I’m almost there.  And you were giving me some problems, but when I glued you back together, I saw what I need to do to fix them.  It won’t take too long.

    *The boulder rocks back and forth*

    But I’ve been wrong before.  You might not be worth the effort it will take to pick you up and carry you to the top.

    *The boulder yawns*

    Am I afraid to finish?  Is that what this is?  Why in the world would I be afraid to finish?  I’d think I’d WANT to finish and be done.  Why is it always so hard to take the last few steps to the top of the hill?

    *If the boulder had a head, it would cock it quizzically*

    Maybe it’s because when I finish, I’ll be opening the door and turning you out into the world.  And even though you are a very small boulder, a boulder that’s hardly worth mentioning in the great scheme of life, turning you out into the world means other people will read you and judge you.  They may think you stink, or they may think you’re okay, but either way, you won’t just be mine anymore.  And nobody else will understand you or appreciate you the way I do, because you’re mine.

    *The boulder rolls forward*  I’m not yours now.

    *Betsy stares at it*  Are you talking to me?  Seriously?

    Why not?  You’re talking to me.

    *Betsy shakes her head*  I really am nuts.  Okay, boulder, what does that mean?  Of course you’re mine.  I’m the one who built you, and I’m the one who glued you back together when you broke apart.

    I’m only real when other people see me too.  Otherwise, I’m just one of your delusions.  For me to be a real boy, er, boulder, you have to let me go, let me go.

    *Betsy thinks*. So I should get you to the top of the hill?

    Yes.

    And then let you go?

    Yes. 

    I don’t know how many people will see you anyway.

    Doesn’t matter.  The point is, as soon as someone else sees me, I’m my own thing.

    Maybe that’s what scares me.

    *The boulder considers*  Well, I suppose you could leave me here and go back down the hill.  You’ll remember I exist around, oh, never.

    I don’t want to do that.

    *The boulder shrugs*

    What if you suck?

    I might suck, but at least I’ll be done.

    There is that.  *Betsy thinks*  *Picks up the boulder*  Okay, let’s do this.  It’s just you and me, boulder.

    For now.

     

    To be continued…