Etched - The Journey

Etched - The Journey To Now -Sunday,9/26/10

Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time ‘blogging’ and when I went back to edit the blog to my great dismay and chagrin I not only edited but somehow deleted the entire blog.  For a few minutes I was upset but once I realized that I could not recover the document I let it go and just as quickly the vexation left me—it passed with no residual distress.  Perhaps, my mind said it wasn’t the right thing for now as some parts of the blog bothered me.  Who knows maybe I subconsciously intended to be rid of that particular blog.  It is gone so here I am re-writing or writing fresh.  I want to think writing what should have been written in the first place.

Why am I blogging or doing a task that I’m unsure anyone will read?  For all the same reasons I wrote my book “Etched”.  I believe in the power of the written word.  My father, a very interesting man, loved words. He used them in varying ways. Sometimes he was complimentary and other times…brutal. Despite all of that I learned from him to love words. I loved them and used them; sometimes—now not easy to admit—just as brutally and with almost, if not the same degree of precision as he did to inflict hurt or shame on others.  Time, patience and a better spiritual relationship has tempered that ‘quick retort "cut-like-a-sword" spirit’ in me and now I’m able to dispense my words—even the ones that might hurt with a lot less force and even some kind of buffer.  I've learned that it’s not always necessary to ‘hurl’ my words at anyone.  I don’t hurl now—I aim.

Many things can change many people but words of care and concern can change all people - Annette I. Smith

It is my hope that as I journey towards getting “Etched” edited and published that I can document this process.  “Etched” was not a book that I sat down with clear ideas as to how I was going to write.  There wasn’t an outline of: Title, introductory sentence, tell them, tell them, wow them, draw them in and wow them!  None of that existed.  What existed in my mind, my head and my heart was a clear picture of my intended audience/reader in mind. I was going to write to the individual who appreciated a well-crafted tale.  My reader, that proverbial, invisible, all knowing, all interesting individual would want to know about my characters.  He/she (my reader) would be excited to be taken on this journey of trial, triumph, love, hate, passion and pain.

So, with my reader locked in my mind I starter the journey to write and to write all the ‘right’ notes.  As I wrote the story changed.  What I started to write on that July 3, 2003 night is tucked away in a file somewhere waiting to be introduced in a few months as “Lineage” the sequel to “Etched”.

“Etched” and its many characters chose me.  I didn’t know these characters nor did I have any idea that they would develop as they did.  It is my belief that “they” wanted their story told and chose me.  I feel so deeply honored to have been ‘chosen’ as their scribe and Griot. Just like the great African story tellers I'm not just telling Etched; I witnessed its unfolding.  I lived it, shared in the characters joy, happiness and God knows—I felt their pain.  Sometimes the pain was too much for me, my angst too deep and my worry and concern for them continued well after I’d put my pen (yes I wrote 95 – 99% of this story in long hand) down.  I have cried right along with these people (they became my people after a while). I never approached this story with the slightest notion that I knew what was next. I waited with a developed patience.  We, the characters and I, spent a great deal of time together.  This was all I did every evening from February 2010 until now. I started at or around 6:30 PM (August, my 85 pound Mastif/Labardor mix) had to be walked) and I would continue until I was ‘let’ go--this mostly left me exhausted when morning came and I started my day around 5:30-6:00am (August again).  Sometimes I wrote before I left for work and then, as soon as I sat on the bus (never took the train as it wouldn’t have allowed me time to write or to edit) I would start the process of writing or editng.

Sometimes I would her myself say to the characters, “(blank) and what did you do next?  What is it you want me to know?  What happened?”  I found when I adopted that attitude and waited invariably the ‘story’ started, unfolded and I was filled with the sights and sounds of that moment. Some characters and their interactions with other characters was easy and some….were very difficult.  I even disliked (and with a passion) some of the characters.  My dislike had nothing to do with their development.  I wrote them as completely as those I liked.

I never labored with this story.  I never had to worry about character description.  I was most often told what the character looked like.  I accepted the descriptions and wrote them just as I was “told”.  I am at peace with the end results and it’s my hope that my reader will be pleased with the story that I’ve traverse time and space to bring to them.