Been working on and off with a piece of fiction for what people call a good long while, started on it before my youngest was born and have picked it up and put it down throughout the years.
Maybe I’ll Write You Another Letter
“How many letters have you written her?”
“Maybe 10,000, but it could be less and then again it could be more.”
“Has she read them all?”
“I don’t know but my best guess is yes. She likes my writing, always has. She hears my voice when she reads it. She avoids them when she wants to put distance between us, always has.”
“And you’re sure of this?”
“Most of the time. We let each other get inside so deep there is no going back. Scares the hell out of both of us and yet we crave it. She likes leaning into me but it has been complicated so she convinces herself it is too this or too that. But eventually we find our way back to each other.”
“Why do men sound so arrogant when they are talking about women who are important to them. Why do you assume nothing has changed.”
He smiled and asked her if she really thought he sounded arrogant.
“You’re convinced she would be with you if she could. That is arrogant. You assume she hasn’t grown or changed.”
“I’d call it romantic and hopeful and hopefully so would she. Besides, I know she still reads my stuff, even if she doesn’t say so.”
“You assume she does. Presumably quite a few people read your column or the magazine would have let you go. Has she written a letter to the editor or sent you an email saying she has read your work. Without that you’re just an arrogant man who thinks a woman who loved you long ago can’t stop reading you.”
“You could be right. You’re the woman and I am the man, presumably you see things from a female perspective. But I know things and I don’t need anyone to agree with me.”
“Hey, you’re the one setting yourself up for heartbreak.”
“I could give you a hundred different answers ranging from I have no expectations to a broken heart that never healed can’t be broken to destiny calls and I must answer. None of them will be acceptable to you because you look at this as moving backwards which shows a profoundly inaccurate read.
Time moves on and everyone changes so who we were may not be who we are and yet parts and pieces transcend time.”
“I am not sure I understand.”
“I am sure I am not interested in explaining.”
“You don’t win any awards for being difficult or acting like an ass.”
Back In Reality
I have multiple versions of that piece and a variety of others that I really ought to work on and maybe I actually will.
There are so many different projects and shiny objects calling for my attention I haven’t been able to focus or so I claim.
It is also possible I have adult onset AD&D or that I haven’t got enough interest in taking it from start to finish.
Probably some of columns A, B and C.
Have had this ongoing fantasy that when I retire I’ll have a place that I find is particularly good for writing and I’ll go on a tear and finish putting these stories together.
Might do it sooner than that, can’t rule it out. When motivated and feeling it I can pump out good content at a rapid pace.
Yet there are so many things going on now that take up chunks of my time and thoughts it is hard to see it happening sooner.
But if you asked me to provide an update of changes during the past five years I can say I didn’t think I would be where I am now because it didn’t seem probable or likely.
Given that it is not impossible to say I might figure out how to make things happen again because what I accomplished is big.
Big enough that maybe I ought to give myself a little more credit but then again maybe that would be detrimental. Call me superstitious.