Maverick, Writing, Fear and the Undeniability of Beautiful Days

It’s a beautiful day. I know because I’ve gotten up out of my upholstered chair, out from behind my laptop, and actually stood underneath the front porch of my house. I didn’t go out to enjoy the day, however. No, I’m too busy writing my memoir to spend time outdoors.

I went out to coax our English Setter, Maverick out. For some reason, he fears crossing the threshold of our front door, but he needs to go outside to “do his business”. Unless I drag him out there, he won’t go on his own. Well, no, that’s not true. If I go outside, he’ll follow me, but once I step back inside, in he comes right beside me. He’s too fast for me, ugh!

But I digress. It’s a beautiful day and I know, because I went outside today. I’m not so unlike Maverick. I too have to be coaxed outdoors. Not sure why, it’s lovely out there. Today, in particular, the sky is blue with billowy clouds and the sun is out for all of us to see. Even the air temperature is lovely. I was glad to be able to experience the day, all-be-it briefly.

I say this because I worked on my book all day. Well, most of the day. I have been trying to limit my FB time and the time I spend on emails. I need to be more diligent, but I’m making progress. I didn’t do the laundry, sweep the hall, decide suddenly that I needed to sort my sock drawer.

My concentration paid off. I came up with a rough table of contents. If Peter were to look at it at this stage, he’d say, “Looks the same.” But it’s not. What people (substitute Peter for people) don’t realize, I think, is that books, “even” memoirs, are crafted. It’s not just putting to paper a list of events that occurred. While there is a lot to write, not every detail needs to be included. I’m actually tempted to write “essence” pieces where a stand-alone story will represent an editorial commentary. But I think that wouldn’t suffice. I have a lot to say. To tell one story to encapsulate a broad insight would be cheap and easy. I am not that.

I think readers (again, substitute Peter) think a chronological way of presenting a story is the most effective. I think it depends on what message you’d like to give. If the impact of the book is not at the end of the story, maybe the story shouldn’t be told that way. I think I need to jump around and even put in flashbacks because some pretty powerful realizations come well after the initial action takes place.

Like, it would take me until I was 32 year old before our father very casually would say, “But we didn’t mean to leave you there for a year.” My older brother, younger sister and I literally wheeled around to glare at him. This was the first time he had ever responded to me blaming my shortcoming to my life-long abandonment syndrome. On this day, he explained, “After all these years, you should get over it already. We only planned to leave you in the Philippines for two weeks. Your Lolo Ador wouldn’t bring you to us in the States. We called. Your mom cried. Finally, she said she was coming for you. That’s the only reason your Lolo agreed.” That’s a pretty significant piece of information our parents never shared with us. For me to have known that earlier in life, would surely have saved me several friendships, boyfriends, and some failing grades. By this time, I had been married nearly ten years and this information would have made all the difference in our relationship, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of dollars in psychotherapy. It serves quite an impact as a flashback in the book.

But what to leave in, elaborate on and what to leave out, now, that’s tricky? How much do you slant your story to prove your point? And if you leave out too much, will that border on falsehood? I grapple with this as well.

But my biggest problem, I have to say, is the message. Our family’s story can be told several ways and with very different outcomes. I keep a journal of just the kinds of meanings I’d like the readers to walk away with. You’ve read the book, finished the last line, closed the book and now what? What ‘aha’ moment did you have? What feeling stirred within you? What question about yourself will you now explore?

Every other day, I have a new perspective. I discuss these ideas with Peter. He nods. He thinks I’m saying the same thing over and again. I think I spent the day and have a nuance that’s brand new. He doesn’t see it.

I feel this need to have him understand what I’m trying to say and concur that it’s a good message, a new theme, a genuine outcome knowing the series of events I’m sharing with my readers.

I vacillate between making the story about me, after all it is my memoir, and about our family’s experience. I had asked my friend Caitlyn, a famous and well-respected book editor what she thought of a He said/She said type of book. Trite and hokey, is what I recall her saying. Then, I thought, I’d interview each one of us and from the interviews, using each person’s own words, I’d tell an excerpt of our life through the eyes of my family members. Another day I thought, I would start it as a young girl in the Philippines. Or, I planned, I’d have it read like we were telling stores over drinks in a bar. Recently, I started to write that each chapter would start with an excerpt from Peter’s letters to me while he was in the Peace Corps.

But today, today, I decided to write a storyline that formed organically. And because it took it’s own voice, flowed, and easily went down on “paper” I will go with it. In actuality, I’ve already written the stories. The book is bound and ready sitting right next to me at this very moment. It is written. It’s how I want it to be published, that needs work.

I realized today that it’s been here all along. Kind of like the happiness I feel when I think of where our life had been, how it progressed, and where we are now. Like Maverick, I’m a little wary crossing that threshold. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of or why I’m afraid. But with a little coaxing, I’ll step out into the sunshine. Yesterday, it took me a text to Peter at work. “Tell me you love me and everything will be OK.” He called me right away, “What’s up?” And all was better. Yesterday, Macallan texted me while she was out in Colorado. “I think I got food poisoning. I’m driving back to the ranch from Denver and I’ve had to pull over to throw up and my head hurts and I want my mommado.” Then, nothing. I felt like she was fine, just didn’t have cell service, but I couldn’t be sure until I’d hear from her. The next day she called. Relief washed over me. All was good in the world. And then, just now, my son texted me to say he’d lost his wallet. No sooner had he told me, when a stranger rang our doorbell and presented me my son’s lost billfold. “Thank you!” I said after the man told me he’d found it on the ground at a garage sale. He looked inside for an address and used GPS to find our home. He brought it right over before we could cancel the card. What a nice person! As suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared, before I could thank him properly and give him a reward.

What a day, I can say as I stand in the front door of my life looking out. What a beautiful day!