I don’t know what I expected. Isn’t it ironic that my naiveté is only obvious to me in retrospect? I thought that to declare that I was going to write would win me the battle. That if I said I was going to write and said it long enough, often enough, and loudly enough, and followed through, then everyone, and everything, that was a distraction (people, opportunities, hurdles) would a) identify themselves, (e.g. I AM A DISTRACTION, PLEASE IGNORE ME); and b) having identified themselves, shamefacedly slink away into the shadows. At the very least I thought I, with so many life lessons under my belt, would be able to tell what was a genuine turn in the road ahead and what led to an insipid dead-end. I thought that since I’d worked steadily at life, learnt its innumerable lessons, identified the patterns of my behavior that help or sabotage my work and having cleaned up my creativity act, my path ahead would now be lit up like a runway. Wind conditions would be favorable and I would pilot my project towards completion, a gentle, safe landing. Imaginary marshalers and wing walkers with their orange batons would be ready to help me park this beautiful big dream without incident. A job well done. That isn’t how it is unfolding. If you don’t mind, I’d like to carry the flying metaphors further and tell you there is turbulence and fog making the runway difficult to see. So, I counsel myself lovingly, there’s more for you to learn, more you have to figure out. After all, life is a story of many parts. Embarking on the writing is the first part; seeing it to completion is the second part.
Just because something feels and resonates as if it is a soul mission, it doesn’t mean the path ahead doesn’t hide twists and turns, detours and pitfalls. Like the curlicues in embroidery, the path folds in on itself, repeating some segments, branching in unexpected ways, and creating new bends. What does it all mean, I find myself asking endlessly, trying to find meaning in places where they may be none. If only I could understand why things happen, I could solve this puzzle once and for all. Where is this going? (‘This’ meaning the writing project. That seems to be a safer question than wondering where I’m headed.) I am always trying to find meaning and I don’t know if there is any.
I haven’t had as much time to write but that changes today because I’m done with some responsibilities. I am starting again- not starting over, but starting from where I am. It’s almost October and if I want to finish by the end of 2019, time is limited. In the good news column, I found a solution for the last 1/3 of the book, the part that I was stuck in and didn’t know how to proceed. How does my heroine get out of all her troubles? I’ll tell you how. I’m going to have the write the book in two parts, the first part describing her story up to the point where she is deep in the abyss. The climb back will be the second part or rather, the second book. Which means, dear reader, I have a very rough draft of the first book written. Now to flesh it out.