As I prepare to read my novel, A Decent Woman, aloud for what I hope will be the final time in the editing phase, I realize that I feel like I did when my children and I were one town over from the end of our two-week walk to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, the final resting place of Saint James.
We were so close to finishing El Camino, the medieval pilgrimage walk, and I remember it it was near sunset. My feet and heels had blisters the size of quarters. My kids and I were exhausted, mentally and physically exhausted from getting up at dawn and donning 20 lb backpacks and walking 20-22 miles a day in the Spanish summer sun until near sunset. Together, we'd walked 370 kilometers.
During our walk, I'd had visions of my kids and I running into town, our destination. I'd say that we'd yell in celebration when we entered the town, hug and kiss each other, but as we stood on the hill with Santiago de Compostela in the distance that evening, I changed my mind. It didn't feel right to walk the mere 10 final miles for some reason. I trusted my gut as I'd done when I decided to walk El Camino and drag my teenage children with me. I'd learned to trust my gut more and more on the walk and I've never deviated from those life lessons learned on our walk--our personal caminos. My kids agreed to wait.
I remember my children and I were silent as we looked down the hill at our destination. We were lost in our own thoughts about the walk and how it had all come about. At times, we hadn't believed that we could finish the arduous walk as we walked down country roads, through villages, trekked beside highways, and hiked up hills and mountains. My kids worried that I couldn't finish because of my blistered feet and I worried that my children would chuck it all aside and demand to go home. But, we hadn't given up. Home seemed so far away on that late afternoon, and crazy as it might sound, we realized that we didn't want our walk to end.
When we finally spoke, my kids and I expressed a desire to savor the moment. It hadn't been all that bad, had it? Yes, it had! We laughed and decided to enjoy a great meal, get a good night's sleep and enter the city fresh and clear in the early morning. I had dreamed of walking El Camino for years and here it was--the end. So close and yet, I wanted to wait.
Waiting to enter Santiago de Compostela was the best decision EVER. That evening, we had dinner with fellow peregrinos, pilgrims who had walked El Camino from various starting points around the world. Some of our new friends, all pilgrims had walked the entire Camino from France to the village we found ourselves in the night before the end and others had begun in Holland, Germany, Belgium like us, and we'd all heard the story of the 80 year old woman who'd walked our her front door in England, took the ferry from Dover to Calais, France and finished the walk. Others began their journeys in the US, Portugal, France and as far away as Japan.
There are many paths that lead to Santiago de Compostela. We'd all taken the path that made sense to us or the path that we found ourselves on at the time. During dinner we discovered the various reasons we'd decided to walk El Camino and the reasons were amazing to hear. There are as many reasons to walk as there are stars in the sky.
I'm glad that my children and I took the time to process our walk. We needed to process. And, as it turned out, we took two days. We loved the albergue, hostel, where we found ourselves and we enjoyed the pilgrims we came into contact with. It was clear that my kids and I needed to be alone with our thoughts and we needed to laugh about the things that had happened along our camino.
My kids and I shared many laughs and stories with each other that night and there were tears, as well. Our lives had changed so much in two weeks and we knew we were different people. We also knew that when we returned to Brussels, the lives we knew would be different. My husband and I had just separated and my kids and I were heading back to the US after 13 years of living overseas.
My children and I had always been close, but walking El Camino with my precious children, when we were hurting, confused, and doubting a good future, was the best experience of our lives. I will never forget walking into Santiago de Compostela with my kids. We were overjoyed, hugely relieved, tired and we'd grown by leaps and bounds. I'm amazed we survived that walk and then again, I knew we'd reach the end.
This morning, I remember the night before we entered Santiago de Compostela because my novel is finished. I've sent out new queries and I want to be alone with my book for the day. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and with my last reread (aloud), I'm savoring every word. I remember when I started this book and where I was in my life. So much has happened to my children and I over the last few years. Some days have been difficult for us, but we're happy and healthy today.
Of course, I've already starting writing that book! I'm going through the journal I kept on the Camino, gazing at our photographs taken during the walk, and remembering how it felt to begin a journey and to come to the end. I'm in awe of what we accomplished and I marvel at our resilience, courage and strong bond of love.
Today, I'm going to savor the moment because I'll never write my first book again. It's been quite a journey.
Peace and love to you,
Ellie
Showing posts with label life lessons.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life lessons.. Show all posts
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
What a Seven-Year Old Knows
I'd wanted to learn to kayak for quite a while and one day, I met a man at the local hardware store. We struck up a conversation and he invited me to join a kayak group that doubles as a conservation group for the creek. I'm all for living green and I was very curious, so I accepted his invitation. I drove out and met the group and had nice conversations before it was time to put our kayaks in the water.
Actually, I didn't learn to kayak, I take that back. There were no instructions beforehand. The group leader pointed to a red kayak, handed me a life vest and told me to follow the group to the creek. Then, he smiled. "This is your first time, isn't it?" to which I said yes. He told me not to worry, adding that kayaking is as easy as walking. I laughed that I hoped it would be and he went ahead of the group, leaving me to drag my kayak to the edge of the creek. I'd hoped that there would be someone at the mouth of the creek helping people into their kayaks, but there was no one. They'd all gone ahead and I was the last woman standing. I was on my own and I noticed that my pulse had quickened. I could already tell that I was in for one helluva workout just from pulling the kayak!
I donned the life vest, slid down the muddy embankment and stepped into my rocking kayak. It soon became apparent to me that this would be a learning experience. A hands-on training of the solo variety. So, I copied what everyone else did and soon, I was at that log in the photograph, listening to the group leader welcome us all and wish us a great ride. A great ride? Were there rapids on this trip that no one had bothered to tell me about?! It was obvious everyone but me had kayaked before, but I was up for the challenge! And besides, there were children kayaking for goodness sake. If a seven-year old could kayak, I was going to be okay, I told myself. These parents wouldn't allow children to kayak if this was dangerous. Right?
Let me tell you, kayaking is easy in a swollen creek or river, but it hadn't rained for quite a while. There were times when we all had to drag our kayaks across rocks and pebbles to catch the current and many times, I was ahead and other times, I was dead last. I had nice, brief conversations as people passed me, others waved to me, and after an hour, a seven-year old boy and I managed to meet up. I asked him if he'd kayaked before and he said yes. Where was his mother, I asked and he pointed up river. "She and my brother have gone ahead." I could tell the boy was tired and so, I slowed down because I knew if I went ahead, he would be alone as we were the last two at that point. Had I just been appointed his guardian for the day? This was my first rodeo for heaven's sake! I barely knew what to do myself! I couldn't be in charge of this beautiful boy!
Well, I believe things happen for a reason, so I just allowed the day to unfold. I enjoyed the present and decided that I wouldn't worry about the future...but this kid. I hadn't counted on babysitting on my first day of kayaking!
The morning was chilly and the sun was glorious. My seven-year old friend turned out to be delightful company. He graciously shared a granola bar with me and we managed to stop a couple of times to take photos and the boy remained with me. I knew he could have gone ahead, but for some reason, he stayed by my side. I thought back to my own kids and how over-protective I was and how I couldn't have fathomed leaving them behind on a creek. I wasn't judging, but in awe of his mother's total confidence in her child's abilities. I knew my kids were capable, as well, but to leave them alone? Not on my watch.
At one point, the boy and I both had to use the 'facilities' and we held each other's kayaks as we did our business. We had a good laugh about hiding from the group and poison ivy and at one point, I nearly lost his kayak as I tried to take a photograph and let go for an instant. We took our time, meandering along the creek and I saw things on the creek that only a child sees. He pointed out bird's nests and knew many of the birds that flew around us. I loved that a seven-year old was teaching me. Maybe he thought I needed assistance and didn't want to leave ME!
We shared a magical two and a half hours and I was thankful to have this curious, intelligent boy with me. He was great company and as we neared the end of the trip, the boy asked me to race him to the finish line. We paddled for our lives and of course, he beat me :) As we pulled our kayaks onto the embankment, the boy pulled his kayak up the hill and disappeared without saying goodbye. I was kinda sad that I couldn't thank him for being my travel buddy. We'd spent all morning together and he left? Just like that?
And then, the boy returned. He slid down the embankment with a huge grin on his face and took my kayak rope from me and pulled my kayak up the hill. Amazing. What a charmer :) I told him how much I'd enjoyed spending the morning with him and gave him a big hug. His mother came over with his brother and I told her what a wonderful, kind young man she'd raised, a real gentleman. She smiled and agreed as she tussled his hair.
What a beautiful morning :) I can't wait to go back. I don't know if I'll ever see the boy again, but I'll never forget him. I'd conquered creek kayaking. I felt the fear and did it anyway. I was proud of myself!
Peace and love to you,
Ellie
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Why Does Disney Kill Off So Many Mothers??
A couple of nights ago, I watched the reality show, Intervention, a reality show about addiction and the inventions that families plan and host in the hopes of sending their family member to rehab and in the process, saving their life.
In the episode I watched, a clearly anguished father read a letter to his son that began with the words, "Your addiction has affected me in the following ways." His son sat motionless on the couch next to his father and looked down, tears streaming down his cheeks. He listened to his father's anguished words and I wondered if the words had reached his son enough to accept the help that was being offered.
Heart wrenching! I wanted to hug the family and shake his son awake to the damage he was inflicting on himself and on his family who listened to the man's letter, looking lost and heartbroken. It was almost too much for me to bear. The family's pain was palpable and found myself wanting to look away, but forced myself to keep watching. I could have changed the channel to a more lighthearted program, but I sat still. The show reminded me of a murder mystery I'd read about addiction and I tucked that away.
In the reality show episode, letter after letter is read by a family member and the boy breaks down, accepting help. He's going to rehab. Hallelujah. Tears of joy all around and I had tears in my eyes for a kid I didn't know. In three months time, the boy is clean and has remained drug-free since 2010. That information was flashed across the screen at the end of the show. I was relieved, but knew better. As a former counselor, I knew damn well that this kid's recovery had been a long, torturous process for the boy and his family. We hadn't been made privy to the details that surely entailed anguish, pain and hurt. It's an hour show, I reminded myself. I wondered how much had been embellished by Hollywood? How would I know, but I applauded this young's man courage. Maybe it helped me feel better to think that the show had been embellished and a fake like Kim Kardashian's fairy tale wedding.
Before bed, I thought about the ugly things and realities of life that many of us don't want to see, read or listen to that certainly have happened in our world and exist today. I thought of my novel where a murder occurs. I'd written those scenes very quickly, I remember. I skimmed through them, not wanting to slow down for the violence. Who wants to dwell on a murder, certainly not me. BAM! It happened and then, next chapter! "The next morning the sun shone brightly"...no.
I wrote that murder scene in and would have to deal with it. I would have to sit and look at the ugly side of life and humanity in my protagonist and antagonist's eyes. Could I do it? Could I embellish and imagine the horrible event and the emotional aftermath and write a believable chapter? All I'd ever killed was a Maine lobster in a soup pot of boiling water and an enormous ant pile I discovered by my back patio last summer.
Did I need that scene? Couldn't I make this novel a feel good novel where everyone is happy and in love? There doesn't have to be a murder! Uh...no. I'm a realist and that's what would happen in my novel. I couldn't be afraid to tackle difficult questions, ask those difficult questions.
Then, something came back to me from my counseling days - pain is pain. We will never know exactly how a victim or a perpetrator feels, even if we've experienced such crimes ourselves. Each of our experiences will be different and our reactions all our own. I could only write the sections as I imagined because I'm human and I'm not immune to pain. All we can do is walk alongside another person.
Unlike counseling, authors take their reader's hand and lead them where they want them to go. We lead, show and then, move on. We can't control how our readers perceive our scenes and interpret our stories. The best we can do is to be as honest and genuine as we can in the telling of our stories. And, that's what I did.
Then I watched part of a Disney movie until I realized that Disney killed off way too many mothers!! What's up with that?! Bambi, Snow White and didn't Cinderella and Ariel lose their mother's too? Don't get me started...
Peace, love, unicorns and rainbows!
Ellie
In the episode I watched, a clearly anguished father read a letter to his son that began with the words, "Your addiction has affected me in the following ways." His son sat motionless on the couch next to his father and looked down, tears streaming down his cheeks. He listened to his father's anguished words and I wondered if the words had reached his son enough to accept the help that was being offered.
Heart wrenching! I wanted to hug the family and shake his son awake to the damage he was inflicting on himself and on his family who listened to the man's letter, looking lost and heartbroken. It was almost too much for me to bear. The family's pain was palpable and found myself wanting to look away, but forced myself to keep watching. I could have changed the channel to a more lighthearted program, but I sat still. The show reminded me of a murder mystery I'd read about addiction and I tucked that away.
In the reality show episode, letter after letter is read by a family member and the boy breaks down, accepting help. He's going to rehab. Hallelujah. Tears of joy all around and I had tears in my eyes for a kid I didn't know. In three months time, the boy is clean and has remained drug-free since 2010. That information was flashed across the screen at the end of the show. I was relieved, but knew better. As a former counselor, I knew damn well that this kid's recovery had been a long, torturous process for the boy and his family. We hadn't been made privy to the details that surely entailed anguish, pain and hurt. It's an hour show, I reminded myself. I wondered how much had been embellished by Hollywood? How would I know, but I applauded this young's man courage. Maybe it helped me feel better to think that the show had been embellished and a fake like Kim Kardashian's fairy tale wedding.
Before bed, I thought about the ugly things and realities of life that many of us don't want to see, read or listen to that certainly have happened in our world and exist today. I thought of my novel where a murder occurs. I'd written those scenes very quickly, I remember. I skimmed through them, not wanting to slow down for the violence. Who wants to dwell on a murder, certainly not me. BAM! It happened and then, next chapter! "The next morning the sun shone brightly"...no.
I wrote that murder scene in and would have to deal with it. I would have to sit and look at the ugly side of life and humanity in my protagonist and antagonist's eyes. Could I do it? Could I embellish and imagine the horrible event and the emotional aftermath and write a believable chapter? All I'd ever killed was a Maine lobster in a soup pot of boiling water and an enormous ant pile I discovered by my back patio last summer.
Did I need that scene? Couldn't I make this novel a feel good novel where everyone is happy and in love? There doesn't have to be a murder! Uh...no. I'm a realist and that's what would happen in my novel. I couldn't be afraid to tackle difficult questions, ask those difficult questions.
Then, something came back to me from my counseling days - pain is pain. We will never know exactly how a victim or a perpetrator feels, even if we've experienced such crimes ourselves. Each of our experiences will be different and our reactions all our own. I could only write the sections as I imagined because I'm human and I'm not immune to pain. All we can do is walk alongside another person.
Unlike counseling, authors take their reader's hand and lead them where they want them to go. We lead, show and then, move on. We can't control how our readers perceive our scenes and interpret our stories. The best we can do is to be as honest and genuine as we can in the telling of our stories. And, that's what I did.
Then I watched part of a Disney movie until I realized that Disney killed off way too many mothers!! What's up with that?! Bambi, Snow White and didn't Cinderella and Ariel lose their mother's too? Don't get me started...
Peace, love, unicorns and rainbows!
Ellie
Friday, January 18, 2013
Some Things Can Wait, Others Won't!
Hello!
Last night, my neighbor told me the sun would be out this morning after a gray, dismal week with little sun, so I decided to leave the bedroom curtains open last night. She was right. I woke up to sun in my eye and it felt great. I lay in bed for a couple of minutes, soaking up the sun's warm rays and then, I noticed the dirty streaks on my windows that I'd apparently missed when I cleaned them...in the fall? No matter! The sun was out! I'd get to them later.
Instead of the usual "I wonder what time it is" before throwing the comforter off, I bounded out of bed. I was up way late last night with my novel and despite feeling a bit tired, I washed my face and went to make a pot of tea. I let my Pug, Ozzy out, put the kettle on, and walked out onto my kitchen porch in my robe. Beautiful! Blue skies and very little clouds. Then, I noticed that the white paint on my wicker chairs was flaking off...really flaking. I'd have to get on that soon. But, not today! The sun was out! There's always March.
I fired up the laptop, watched Pierre, my kitten, jump from the dining room table to the top of the armoire (his first time!) and then, decided that instead of continuing the edits and rewrites on my novel, it was time to print out the entire manuscript. I wanted to read my book, A Decent Woman, and my reading eyes needed a break from the computer screen, too. No printer? No problem! I'd take a sunny day walk to the library where the very sweet and helpful librarian lets me use the library's fancy shmancy computer in the back room with the equally fancy shmancy, super fast printer! She's very nice to writers and future authors :)
As the printer spit out the 263 pages of my novel, I read the first page as I've done a couple hundred times over the years. Something didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it. I decided to reread the first paragraph. Yep, it's in there. I honed in on the first sentence...holy crap.
My vision has recently turned into a "You can say it better, poor usage, bad grammar-seeking missle!!
Nothing was really wrong with the first sentence, BUT it could be explained and described even better!! ARGH! Needless to say, when the 263 pages were out, I'd already reworked the first sentence...and I loved it.
I printed out the new first page again because I'm a Virgo, wrapped up my manuscript and walked home, holding my precious bundle called A Decent Woman. The reason for these new eyes - one reason. Natalie Goldberg. She's the reason I'm fleshing out the mss, rereading with new eyes, staying with the mystery, slowing down when I want to rush forward, and describing the crap outta things! Yep, it's Nat's fault. And, I love her dearly.
My dirty windows can wait and so can the wicker chairs. Ozzy will always have to go out and Pierre (and I) will always reach new heights. I'll always love a pot of tea and I'll continue to walk every day, rain or shine. I'll write at home and at the library. Some things can wait and some things won't.
Rewrites, edits and learning through writing never seems to end and cannot wait. I'm okay with that even if the sun isn't shining.
Peace and love,
Ellie
Last night, my neighbor told me the sun would be out this morning after a gray, dismal week with little sun, so I decided to leave the bedroom curtains open last night. She was right. I woke up to sun in my eye and it felt great. I lay in bed for a couple of minutes, soaking up the sun's warm rays and then, I noticed the dirty streaks on my windows that I'd apparently missed when I cleaned them...in the fall? No matter! The sun was out! I'd get to them later.
Instead of the usual "I wonder what time it is" before throwing the comforter off, I bounded out of bed. I was up way late last night with my novel and despite feeling a bit tired, I washed my face and went to make a pot of tea. I let my Pug, Ozzy out, put the kettle on, and walked out onto my kitchen porch in my robe. Beautiful! Blue skies and very little clouds. Then, I noticed that the white paint on my wicker chairs was flaking off...really flaking. I'd have to get on that soon. But, not today! The sun was out! There's always March.
I fired up the laptop, watched Pierre, my kitten, jump from the dining room table to the top of the armoire (his first time!) and then, decided that instead of continuing the edits and rewrites on my novel, it was time to print out the entire manuscript. I wanted to read my book, A Decent Woman, and my reading eyes needed a break from the computer screen, too. No printer? No problem! I'd take a sunny day walk to the library where the very sweet and helpful librarian lets me use the library's fancy shmancy computer in the back room with the equally fancy shmancy, super fast printer! She's very nice to writers and future authors :)
As the printer spit out the 263 pages of my novel, I read the first page as I've done a couple hundred times over the years. Something didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it. I decided to reread the first paragraph. Yep, it's in there. I honed in on the first sentence...holy crap.
My vision has recently turned into a "You can say it better, poor usage, bad grammar-seeking missle!!
Nothing was really wrong with the first sentence, BUT it could be explained and described even better!! ARGH! Needless to say, when the 263 pages were out, I'd already reworked the first sentence...and I loved it.
I printed out the new first page again because I'm a Virgo, wrapped up my manuscript and walked home, holding my precious bundle called A Decent Woman. The reason for these new eyes - one reason. Natalie Goldberg. She's the reason I'm fleshing out the mss, rereading with new eyes, staying with the mystery, slowing down when I want to rush forward, and describing the crap outta things! Yep, it's Nat's fault. And, I love her dearly.
My dirty windows can wait and so can the wicker chairs. Ozzy will always have to go out and Pierre (and I) will always reach new heights. I'll always love a pot of tea and I'll continue to walk every day, rain or shine. I'll write at home and at the library. Some things can wait and some things won't.
Rewrites, edits and learning through writing never seems to end and cannot wait. I'm okay with that even if the sun isn't shining.
Peace and love,
Ellie
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