Still caught in the tremors of the collective angst, it’s been a rough few days. Disrupted sleep patterns and heat with high humidity do not a happy person make. Add in three days of stacking hay, and I am one tired puppy.
Finally, we are due for some thunderstorms and much needed rain. Yay! A day without watering the garden.
As I crawl out and attempt to separate from the miasma of ever more dismal news, I find myself clinging to moments. A riding lesson, the quiet of the sunset, or rather the beauty of the twilight as my coonhound bays at the barking dog next door, and attempting to connect with my writing.
And then this popped into my inbox:
Which made me take a hard look at what I write.
My first novel (the one I have sidelined, but hope to start querying again), deals with guilt, grief, and second chances.
My fantasy WIP, while not revolving around grief or loss, has layers of it. The main character must deal with the grief of others and her own losses that happen along the way. (And I get to explore how an angel might grieve)
.The one I am currently writing tackles grief and forgiveness.
I write what I know and I know grief. Better than I ever wanted. I know the grief of watching a father and a friend leaving their lives by inches. I know the sharp stab of loved ones stolen in a flash. I know the pain of losing pets, of losing innocence, of death as a blessing and curse.
So much loss might harden me, might make me guard against that pain that is beyond physical, yet so corporal, but it doesn’t. It made me more appreciative of daily blessings. A smile, the sunlight, my pain-in-the-ass dog who howls loud enough to peel paint’
I know grief, but I also know the opposite. I know how to get through the tough spots, the vortexes, the depression. I know on the other side joy, contentment, and peace can be found. It’s all transient, it’s all a stop on the journey.
So I write about it.
And I write about the laughter and growth and changes that come after it. Because that is what I know.
Life goes on.
Good days, bad days, indifferent days. Days when the news seems like something too far-fetched for a dystopian novel (and you’ve written one that is out there), or when the days stretch into a COVID19 quarantine lethargy, or when the dog simply WILL. NOT. STOP. HOWLING!!! (That is way too common these days. He likes to chase the birds from the yard….)
And there are the days when you look back and realize you are a more compassionate, patient, and appreciative person than your bratty, younger self ever dreamed.
I know horses, too.
Maybe I will have to write about them.
I also know the lyrics to just about every song from the 80s.
I would never subject anyone to that.
Nancie Abuhaidar 