I knew what I wanted.
To lay words on page, one after another. Words that twisted and turned but always moved forward through the life of my great-great grandfather, allowing my readers to experience the adventures, heartbreaks and joys of his life.
Most of all, I wanted to lay the last word. To say "It's done." To bless, to send away, to cross fingers and pray.
A year should have been enough, right? An hour or two a day of steady writing for a year would have gotten me to the end of the journey. An hour or two is nothing… the time it takes to walk and feed the dogs or check my email.
But the days of our lives are tricky adventures themselves, full of their own twists and turns and dark holes that make hours vanish into thin air… all too often the very hours I needed to tell his story.
And on the rare days I was able to slip away from other projects and responsibilities into his story, instead of steadily moving forward, one word after another, I'd find myself trapped in the quicksand of historic research where hours can truly disappear.
This year, again, what I want most of all is to say "It's done." I want to lay the last word and send something away with a prayer. To finish something without being lured away by another story.
So I'm stepping out of my grandfather's journey and back into another I'd written to the end, but that just needs a little sprucing up here and there. The one my grandfather's story pulled me away from.
There's no need for research, only the loosening of my imagination and the dedication – the determination – to lay the last word.
And then I'll return to my grandfather's story, stronger, more experienced, more prepared to stay that course to the end.
This week we’d like you to write a memoir piece about an unfulfilled goal or a broken resolution, beginning with the words, “I knew what I wanted".
Long Hollow 
Leave a comment