Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Writing Week Day 4

I'm actually beside myself with exhaustion so I will try to be brief.

Last night I had trouble getting to sleep because one of the other residents had said "a woman" (aka a ghost) had briefly visited her room and I was a bit terrified to turn out the light. But it was fine.

Woke up at about half nine, showered, ate a bit of toast, and then went straight into it for about half ten. I worked without a break until nearly six o'clock, not even lunch. It was amazing. I'm up to almost 30,000 words now.

There was to be an event on a 7pm, so I cooked myself some spaghetti and ate it as quickly as I could. The event was an art share that started with a facilitated conversation between the Irish author Orla McAlinden and the artist Mary Coss. I'd say about ten people showed up, which was perfect. Their conversation was really compelling, and I found Orla's story about writing her first book really motivating. She was a veterinarian, and when her father died, she started writing stories using his voice as the inspiration. But seeing as she couldn't publish the stories (some of the featured characters still being alive), she decided to write other stories. And now her second book has just been published.

After the talk, Yoni played three of the movements on piano from the project he's working on. It was absolutely lovely. Although I have often heard him play since I've been here, it's been all stops and starts, and impossible to hear any sort of arrangement. So it was amazing to hear the results of all those stops and starts!

Finally, Jess asked if I wanted to share a bit of what I'm working on. I read a section of my book that talked about not having enough courage when it came time to help my dad use the urinal. I had picked out a second bit, but I chickened out reading that one. But the feedback on what I did read was incredible. I do think I'm really onto something. I can feel that my story will really resonate with so many people, even though at the moment sometimes I worry that it's pedestrian.

One thing I'm realising through this process: I used to describe this book as a book about my father. And as I write, I'm realising that my father's actual, healthy, real personality is actually virtually absent. Cancer erased so much of his essence. The story is about me. I never thought of it as a story about me before, but it definitely is. As it should be. The only one qualified to tell my father's story is him. I mean, it makes sense. Writing is largely a narcissistic endeavour. But I want to tell my story so that other people who have been or will go through this experience can read it and see themselves.

One woman at the event spoke up and said that only a couple of days ago, she'd been to her parents' house to care for her mother and father, who had both been in a fall (one fell atop the other). And she said that the passage from my book that I read was almost exactly what happened to her. "You need to write this book," she said, emphatically. Later, I got into a conversation with another woman who was talking about another point I was talking about relating to being assertive and advocating for your loved one. She told me that I could probably get funding from patient advocacy groups.

I didn't realise it, but I think I really needed the encouragement. I'm just over halfway done with what I planned to do. I may not finish it all before I leave here, but if I don't, I'm 1000% certain I'll finish very soon upon my return. I know that I can finish, I will finish, and I will find my audience, too. 

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