THERE IS NO GETTING AWAY FROM IT

THERE IS NO GETTING AWAY FROM IT

                   (Originally Posted 9/2009)

When this piece was first posted in 2009 I was seventy-four years old,  twelve years retired, and five years into my storytelling odyssey. By then even vacations seemed to offer little escape from my writing. Reading this again, all these years later, I can see, hidden between the lines, hints of what kept me pursuing my obsession, and where it was taking me. 

And too there were signs of where it was not taking me. From the beginning I was telling the stories I wanted to tell, the ones that kept bubbling to the surface. That much I could control. It was, after all, the part that provided the satisfaction I was seeking…..the part that accounts for the twenty-two books that now sit on my bookshelf. 

On the other hand, whether anyone wanted to read those stories, or buy them, has always been their choice to make…..something beyond my control. Something I don’t fret about. (At least not too much.) 

So it was in the summer of 2009 when Roma and I took a vacation break. What follows are my thoughts from that week at the beach.

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Vacation time. The idea was a relaxing get away…..time to think about something other than the normal stuff that fills our everyday lives. It has been a welcome break, just the two of us. Morning fog may hide the surf when we look out from our balcony, yet most afternoons have been just right for long walks on the hard sand next to the breakers. All in all it has been everything a vacation should be.

So why then have I been so easily drawn back to everyday thoughts, the ones I had planned to leave behind for a while? Fact is, of course, there is no way to leave the so-called ‘ordinary’ behind. The mind matter we pack around is too much a part of us to be set aside for even a day or a week.

I don’t know about you, but there are times I wish the mind-full of thoughts and recollections I drag along behind me wasn’t so heavy. If only it was more logical, or in some cases, more worthy? There are parts of it I would like to erase altogether, though I suppose those are the very things I am meant to remember, to learn from, and hopefully avoid the next time.

However, that reservoir of experience has also become a source of raw material…..uniquely personal elements to be sprinkled throughout my stories. How often have I sifted through that overburden of life impressions, looking for bits that illustrate a particular idea or make a necessary point…..looking for possibilities that fit together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. 

Sometimes it is one of those long-forgotten snippets, perhaps one of those I wish I could forget, that bubbles to the surface, ready to serve my story in some unexpected way. 

Turns out that can happen even when I am on vacation, surrounded by so many attractive diversions…..Her good company, hours of uncharted mind wandering, or a good book. (Interesting how Nuala O’Faolain allowed the embodiment of a long ago dream to find a home in her story.) 

Thankfully, though there’s no computer on hand, I do have a couple yellow writing pads on hand. For a couple days now I have been filling those pages with words that offer the promise of a new story. 

As always, it’s a casual, almost haphazard process…..following an idea where it leads me, hurrying along, trying to keep up with my thoughts. At that point it is not a matter of finding the exact words or perfect metaphors. The purpose is to capture the flow of the story as it arrives, knowing that whole paragraphs, sometimes whole scenes, will eventually be discarded or reworked beyond recognition.

At least for me, that first draft is a time for absorbing the feel of what the story is becoming. Sometimes the ideas come so fast that good ones, at least I think they were, will escape before I put them on paper. 

And it is easy to get sidetracked. If I pause to tweak a sentence before moving on, by the time I return to the story line I may have lost the stream of consciousness, the progression of ideas that I hoped would be my story. At other times I will try to hold a thought that just interrupted the sentence or paragraph I’m finishing. I will promise to return to it in a few seconds. By then, of course, it is gone, lost forever.

Finally, it all comes down to the one question that matters most. Is there really a worthwhile story lurking in all those pages of scribbled notes? How many weeks, one time months, have I spent stalking an idea that eventually led nowhere…..a story that seemed to have no reason to be told?

I take all those bumps in the road as signs that after five years I remain a late-life beginner…..having my fun, stretching my mind, getting my kicks by stringing words and ideas together on paper. Then, taking advantage of today’s incredible technology, I will create a paperback or ebook, hoping that some curious minds in the reading world will find meaning and enjoyment in those words. 

It seems to me a fascinating concept. I launch my stories into the cyberspace of an Amazon Author’s Page, never knowing whom, if anyone, will read them. Still, even at the cost of a disrupted vacation, I count myself fortunate for the chance to do what I find so satisfying.

Anyway, if you’re reading this you can tell that I’ve had too much vacation time on my hands, and/or I have cleaned it up enough to post once I get back to a computer.