I’ve been writing. And I’ve come to understand the importance of writing every day. You loose the flow of writing in the absence of the daily current. I don’t know. Maybe that’s a good thing, but in re-reading it, the story feels choppy right now, kind of like learning how to drive a stick shift. You’ve got to get the feel of it and even then, sometimes you stall. I know eventually it’ll smooth out, but right now it feels choppy.
I have been re-writing a story that keeps haunting me. Sometimes I can’t stand the not knowing. I have to open the basement door and face the dark. I inch forward grasping for the unseen string to pull the light on. Sometimes I find it and sometimes I bump into unknown things. Let’s not confuse curiosity with courage. They are definitely not the same thing.
It was necessary, this re-writing. I’m in search of a truth. And as I finished the second draft, I discovered that the question was completely different than what I once thought the question was. Perhaps what changed is me and that is now reflected in the story. Or maybe what has occurred in my life has opened up my mind to realize what the story really was about. Again, I don’t know. All I know is that it feels right. The question feels right.
What is the question? Hmmm. It is not a new question. It is about courage. Having the courage to do what your heart tells you to do or accept the fact that you won’t and live with it. Either way is painful. Either way you have to let go of something that you are or thought you were. Either way you feel more alone. The main character gave up her country, her extended family, her comforts and her security to obtain the freedom to live as she wanted among others of like mind. It all seemed so liberating, but it soon became apparent that she was more imprisoned in her safe haven then she had ever been before. She tried to succumb. She really did. But she could not deny the lie of it all. She finally knew she couldn’t live with herself if she stayed. She walked away from what she thought she wanted, and found what she was really searching for.
It did not end well. But she ended well.
And as a result of her courage, we live in the land of the free and home of the brave. Ironic, isn’t it?