June 29, 2011


I find myself writing in my head more and more. Stories swirl, but have no where to go. I have journals to write in, but as I go to put pen to paper, a wall appears and the stories run and hide.

I once had a notion that I would be a writer. Not a good one, mind you, but a writer none-the-less. As a teen, I wrote poems, short stories and random passages of whimsy. Now, I write legal briefs, letters and memorandum. I think perhaps these banal writing assignments have stifled my ability to be creative.

I shall shortly find myself with two fewer houseguests. This will require me to be creative as I have some housekeeping to get in order, some furniture to purchase and some photos to hang upon my walls. I suspect that this "taking back of my home" will inspire me to put pen to paper again.

In the meantime, here is an excerpt of a story that has been floating in my head for many moons…. I know where it should go, where I want it to go, I just don't know that these excerpts will get it there. Below, some passages from various chapters in an as-yet unnamed manuscript. ;)

His Beginning

He sat on the corner of the couch in stunned silence. In fact, he had not moved from that spot in several hours. A dull ache radiated through his body as he struggled to remember her exact words. Heather was leaving. Of this much, Mike was sure. The last year played through his mind like an old home movie.

Mike smiled to himself as he remembered running into Heather and her mother a year ago at Walmart. It was like a country song, the name of which he could not remember. All the moments of his life, however insignificant were set to music in his mind. This daily soundtrack went far back to his childhood, back to when he would lock himself in his room to escape the mental and sometimes physical abuse heaped upon him by his parents. There, during those long days and nights, he would teach himself to play the guitar, the saxophone and the harmonica. He was not technically perfect, but the music that flowed from him was beautiful. Music was his life. Not only was he a professional musician, but he devoured every piece of new music he could get his hands on.

Since their very first date, Mike was completely in love with Heather. That date occurred in high school, when they were lab partners. The years parted them, Heather moved, Mike moved, but last year they met again. he knew it was meant to be from the very moment his eyes met hers. . . .

Her Beginning

She hummed a tune while signing her name on the last several pages of her divorce papers. The last several years were tough. Although she had devoted her life to him, taken a back seat to his career, desires and wishes, Kat's childhood sweetheart had chosen to leave her for a much younger woman. She would be alone for the first time in her entire life. The children she had longed for, never came. The pets she had wanted, never fit into his schedule. The friends she had needed, abandoned her for the new couple. She was completely and utterly alone. Despite that, as she signed her name on the very last page of the Settlement Agreement giving her the house and car and nothing else, she shouted out the words to the Bright Eyes tune she had been humming:

. . . I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues. Until one day, she found out that he had lied and decided the rest of her life, from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept. What did you expect? In that big, old house with all those cars she kept. "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next, you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.
She never got upset and with all the days she may have left, she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best. She was free to waste away alone. . . .

All the moments of Kat's life, however insignificant were set to music in her mind. She was not a musician, but she knew music, it filled her up. She had only music to get her through this new beginning in which she was completely and utterly alone. . . .

Unnamed Chapter such and such…..

. . . when he was able to stop laughing and catch his breath, Mike reached across the table and grabbed Kat's hand. He asked her, "have you ever sat and flipped through the stations on your radio, and heard snippets of music which send memories flooding through you r mind?" Kat jumped in, "and you smile regardless of whether or not those memories are good or bad! The music makes you feel like you are there again!" "Exactly," Mike said through a smile. He was, by now, completely lost in her deep brown eyes as the jukebox flipped to Ray LaMontagne's "For the Summer."

He was still clutching her hand, but she hadn't noticed. Her body was swaying as the sweet melody enveloped her. It was only when the song had ended that she realized that they were dancing. . . .

Posted by Oddybobo at June 29, 2011 11:10 AM | TrackBack

Uh oh, this is a chick story.

Posted by: paul mitchell at July 2, 2011 06:09 PM

The terror of the blank sheet of paper, today the terror of the blank screen. I know it well. Sit down with the ideas just bubbling over the top of my brain, when the screen appears my brain goes as blank as the screen.

Good to see you coming to life, onscreen again. Your pictures of your boy are always something, he's the only boy in the world almost as handsome as my grandsons and your little stories of your life in general have been both entertaining and enlightening. And it's always been fun flirting with a cutie without endangering anyone's (read my) marriage.

Hang in there and work through the blanks. The nice thing about writing on the computer is that no one ever sees the heaps of balled up paper.

Posted by: Peter at July 2, 2011 09:22 PM


Posted by: diamond dave at July 3, 2011 12:46 PM

Glad to see you back...and would love to see more of this story...

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Posted by: Paultons Park Peppa Pig at July 15, 2011 06:54 AM