Pen to Paper

I would love to be a writer. I think I have a great story to tell. My writing would be nonfiction at first but eventually I think I would like to take the challenge of writing a story from scratch. But is any story really from scratch? I'm sure writers write about what they know, fiction or nonfiction. I've been writing a story, my story for sixteen years. I just don't know how to make it flow. A few years back I thought I had it figured out and started constructing it but quickly got discouraged and shelved it once again. Recently I started writing again but I'm not sure what my process is called - journal, short story, diary. Regardless, I've been writing. So I guess that makes me a writer.

When I lived in San Diego I would write for hours and hours. I have dozens and dozens of note pads with my stories that date back sixteen years. I also have hundreds of pages on my computer that I have titled and constructed into a book but I just don't like the flow. I've been trying lately to organize it in a manner that makes sense. Do I start from today and write or compile it backwards? Do I start from the beginning and move forward? I guess that's the art of being a writer. Take the time to write but also spend the time to spin it in a way that makes it appealing. Then find a way to get it in the right hands. Again it goes to show you when it comes to me and my own project I come up short but if someone else was to approach me with their work or project I'd have them on the best sellers list across the nation.

When I was 18 yrs. old I went to visit my parents who had recently moved to California. They took me to the beach and I was amazed at the beauty. The homes caught my eye. Dwellings whose backyard was an ocean. It was there that I had my first vision of being a writer. I could see myself in a room with the curtains flopping around from the wind, Steely Dan playing in the background, and me at a typewriter penning my book. I tell you this because I had that moment where I saw it. I heard it. And I smelled it. It was where I would be someday. Now I know it sounds crazy, but it happened.

I'm not sure if I'm a good writer but recently I found an old junior high newspaper and a story I wrote in there. It wasn't bad, especially for a young 13 yr. old with little experience and one who never made anything higher then a C average in English class. I also found my sports articles in the yearbook that I had written and thought to myself that those entries were pretty good as well. I had and still my have my own style of writing and I should be grateful for that. Not sure if anyone ever read my writings, or even my blogs today, but at least I'm writing. Reminds me of the Franklin Covey seminar I attended years ago. The speaker pointed out that if someone writes just one page a day for an entire year that they'd have a 365 page book a year later. Its taken me sixteen years to write 400+ pages.

I have an idea for a fictional book. It has to do with a mattress. The mattress is introduced in the beginning of the book because it's in an apartment where a homicide has been committed. The story follows the journey of the mattress in a low poverty neighborhood and all the bad that comes and surrounds the mattress. Similar to the Samuel Jackson movie "The Red Violin" that follows a violin through the centuries. My idea is to incorporate the same concept but fill in the story with my own experiences or storyline. I like short stories that blossom out of one story.

When my kids were young and we had every kid on the block at the house I would entertain the group by putting together different activities. We would go on rock explorations. Explorations that had us search for fossils in rocks, but more importantly, I would have the kids find a rock that they could paint. After they were done painting I would have them tell the other kids a story about where their rock came from. They would make up stories and create elaborate tales. Another project was story building. I would get all the kids together and we would create a story as a group. I would start it out and then they would build on to it. One I remember clearly was about a dirt road. We had a dirt road that oddly started in our sub-division and disappeared in & over a grassy hill on some vacant land. The kids, being too young to explore this real estate, could only assume where the road went. I was amazed by the creative and detailed stories that came about from these sessions. The mind is a beautiful muscle.

Well I am done for now. I have to figure out what my next move is. If anyone wants to give me an advance on my bestseller just let me know. I'm sure we can take the few dollars I'd get and go buy some items off the dollar menu at some fast food joint somewhere. Have a great day and use your mind, because the mind is a terrible thing to waste!   

Something Isn't Right

I made it through the scare of losing Kaylee to leukemia. A roller coaster ride that lasted years. But just as that nightmare ended, another one started. My son Landen, a beautiful and healthy 20 yr. old boy, was killed while riding his skateboard in San Marcos, CA. The death, delivered by a hit and run driver, has left me lost and devastated. My head hasn't been right and my heart hurts beyond words. I'm damaged.

I know you're suppose to grieve and come to terms with situations but I feel like I am sick. The illness that struck Kaylee combined with the loss of Landen has left me drained. It has sunk me so far into depression that I pray each night for the strength to make it through the next day. I have no one to talk because I feel like no one understands. I find it hard to go to sleep because I don't want to wake up or face the next day. I haven't received any professional help, which I need badly, because it's a service I can't afford at the moment. My family is also suffering. They know something isn't right with dad.

I'm so disappointed with myself because I feel I've let so many people down. I spent so many years trying to help others and do kind things but now I can't even help myself. So many things have turned bad. I have always taken care of my family but I have fallen down and I haven't been able to pick myself up. Financially I have went belly-up. My drive and ambition disappeared January 13, 2012. The day Landen was pulled from life support.

Sometimes I think how bad things were when we spent nearly two years in the hospital with Kaylee. I try to find strength in those sad days. Days we sat there not knowing what was going to happen next. Days we would have given anything to have our little girl's health back. But it's hard to compare because I have to deal with the fact that my boy is dead. A young man who had a whole life ahead of him. I sometimes wish I was with him because I don't want him to be alone.

Sadness, sadness from heartbreak and loss, physically hurts. My heart beats but it feels broken. I had so many things I needed to say to him. I wanted to watch him surf. I wanted to watch him get married. I wanted to see him become a man. A great man. Those things will never come now and it hurts. So many people say he's in a better place but that doesn't always help. It's something you say because there isn't anything else to say.

Kaylee had a shoulder replacement last week. She's been in bed recuperating. She's been sleeping propped up with a shoulder sling that looks so uncomfortable. The doctors predict she may need the other shoulder replaced sometime as well as her knees. There's also talk of her ankles needing a fuse job. Unbelievable. She just turned 20 yrs. old and she's having work done that an unlucky 80 yr. old would have. The prolong chemo and steroid use has devastated her little body. A tough thing to watch. But I begged God to leave her here, and he did, so I can't be too sad or mad. It's the hand we've been dealt.

You never know what life is going to give you. Some say that God only gives the strong the big loads. If that's true, I need to get a message to him soon so I can let him know that my legs are weak and my back is hurt and I can't take another load. It's funny how you can go through life and feel invincible until something hits you hard. I do believe there is something behind all this but I just haven't figured it out yet. I guess its what I do with it and how I come out of it.