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  • November 5th, 2009 | 10:25 PM
The distance between real life and story

There have been some things going on in my life lately. Some things that have me thinking those deep, dark thoughts that keep you up at night. I found this old post from a few years ago that touches on it somewhat and I thought I'd share it again, (with some editing) because it explains a lot of where my mind is at of late . . . though it helps if you can read between the lines.

* * *
Hemingway said, and I can't remember the exact quote so I'll try to paraphrase it, he said that he couldn't write about Paris when he lived there. He had to leave Paris before he could put the words on the page that would describe his experiences. While living there it was too much, too intense, too something and it skewed his vision. He needed distance and the passage of time before he could tell his story.

Some stories, while not easy, can still be written while you are in the midst of living them. When my kids were little I wrote about events within weeks or months of them happening. It was fun, like putting things in their baby scrapbooks. I recorded their awkward moments, their growth, and many of our special family memories. I told stories about our family and I got paid for it. Now I can go back and reread those old articles and it's like picking up an old teddy bear and paging through a scrapbook of their childhood.

But other stories, perhaps those that touch the most painful parts of us, lay fallow for many years before the words begin to venture forth. I believe our emotions go into self-preservation mode and give us time to heal before we're strong enough to attempt share a piece of ourselves through the telling of a story. My first picture book, Can I Pray With My Eyes Open? rested deep beneath the surface for over 25 years before it burst forth, near fully formed in one sitting. I can tie that story to an exact moment in time, when I was 10 years old, and I know that the book was an answer to a question asked long ago. Another picture book, Oliver's Must-do List , seems, at first, to be a simple story about a mother and a child have a playday together but I can tell you now that it was born of guilt - immense guilt that my children were grown and I couldn't go back and spend more time with them. Hugging the Rock is a novel about fathers and daughters, but more than that, it is about making peace with things you cannot change. I never knew my father and I wondered about him for many years. I can't remember when I finally stopped searching but when I did, I realized that my own story was inching closer to the surface, closer to being ready to be heard.

Hugging the Rock
is also about picking up the pieces after a divorce. Though many friends advised me to, I couldn't write about my own divorce in the years immediately after it happened. The pain was too immense, the emotions too raw. But time was a helpful balm. Eventually my emotions bubbled to the surface telling me when it was time to write the story. In the process of the writing there were still some deep and painful moments but because I had waited, I was strong enough to go to the dark places and still come out alive. Enough time had passed that I could accept the blame for what was mine and let go of the blame for anything else. I could see the details through the tears.

There are other childhood events I want to write about someday but they're still simmering and I'm still healing. Those stories will have to wait a bit longer. It's been almost a dozen years but I know I am not yet ready to write about my time in New Orleans. I don't know how long it will take before I am brave enough to face those demons head on. Not all my writing is tied to a piece of my past but I am making an effort to mine the treasures I have within because I do believe that's where the juiciest stories wait to be told.

As many of you know, I'm working on Flyboy's story right now. This project began over 25 years ago when my then-husband and I spent weekends out on the tarmac, our necks straining as we watched the sky at the air shows the way film buffs watch the movies.

What part of my life is like Flyboy's? Where's the connection? What makes it so hard to write? I don't fly planes. I'm not adopted. My dad wasn't famous. But I know what it's like for the main character to obsess about planes the way I obsess about writing. I know what it's like to wonder where you came from and how that might affect where you're going. I know what it's like to feel lonely even in the midst of a family.

When you've been working on a book for over 25 years, like I have with this one, the story becomes so wrapped up in your own life that sometimes it's hard to remember what happened to me and what happened to Flyboy. Was it Flyboy or was it me that found the box that held so many secrets? Was it Flyboy or was it me that met someone who knew their father and answered questions held silent for so long? Was it Flyboy or was it me that finally realized the true meaning of family?

I hope it is both. I hope I can tell that kind of a story, one that feels like it happened to you.

I hope that helping Flyboy find his answers will help me decide what to do with some questions of my own.
 

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There are so many stories only you can tell.Tell them, please.



Comments

( 11 comments — Leave comment )
meredith_wood
November 6th, 2009 02:13 pm (UTC)
I can relate so well to this post. I hope Flyboy accomplishes everything you want from it. I know TBOM is doing this for me.
susanwrites
November 6th, 2009 04:27 pm (UTC)
Thanks. I hope so too. I'm glad you have a project that is helping you as well.
meredith_wood
November 6th, 2009 02:13 pm (UTC)
I can relate so well to this post. I hope Flyboy accomplishes everything you want from it. I know TBOM is doing this for me.
lkmadigan
November 6th, 2009 02:30 pm (UTC)
Sounds like it will make an awesome book ... and a healing process.
susanwrites
November 6th, 2009 04:27 pm (UTC)
Thanks, I hope so, on both counts. Looking forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks.
tracyworld
November 6th, 2009 04:35 pm (UTC)
Wow. I cannot wait to read FLYBOY. But I will wait patiently, just as you have been patient with the process and let the story come in its own time.
susanwrites
November 6th, 2009 05:33 pm (UTC)
Thanks. The process, as you know, is a tough one but it should be worth it in the end.
hipwritermama
November 6th, 2009 05:32 pm (UTC)
I bet Flyboy is going to figure things out, just as you will.

Wonderful post, Susan. I do believe that we become better writers with our life experiences and emotions we carry. It's a difficult undertaking, isn't it, to open up the past? But sometimes, when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we give ourselves permission to tell the story the way it way meant to be. If that makes sense.

Best of luck!
susanwrites
November 6th, 2009 05:33 pm (UTC)
Thanks, Vivian. I think Flyboy is handling it all a lot better than I am. :) But I'm trying.
liz_scanlon
November 6th, 2009 10:58 pm (UTC)
This is all so big, Susan. Be gentle on yourself as it unfolds...
susanwrites
November 6th, 2009 11:03 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Liz. I am trying. It is all really big and a bit scary at the moment, the way that reality and my story have intersected.
( 11 comments — Leave comment )
WHO AM I?



Who am I?I was born on the Cancer/Leo cusp and share a birthday with Ernest Hemingway and Robin Williams. The similarities don't stop there as I can go from depressed to ecstatic without ever passing go. I feel scared most of the time though my friends call me brave and I find it easier to believe in my friends than to believe in my own abilities to make what I want out of my life.

Who am I? A wife, a mother, a daughter, and even, gulp, a grandmother.

Who am I? A writer who never gets tired of playing with words, even when the words are hard to find. A writer of books for children and articles for grown-ups and many things in-between.

Who am I? A motivational speaker, writing instructor, workshop leader and full-time follower of dreams.

Who am I? Read and find out.






Susan Taylor Brown

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"Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing. They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties."
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"Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is."
--Anne Rice

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