My head tends to be a bit crowded in the morning, when I first wake up. I made the note in my little “line a day” journal this morning, that it’s no wonder I write. If I didn’t, where would all those thoughts go?
This morning, the thoughts in my head wandered to a story I’m excited to get to, tentatively titled The Empty Spaces. Briefly:
Bonnie-Jane dashes out of the woods behind the farmhouse where she grew up, sweating and out of breath and knowing two things: One, she’s late and mama’s going to be mad; and two, she has to get there before her baby wakes up from her nap. When she gets home, the baby is thirteen, her mother has died, and Bonnie-Jane has been missing for eleven years.
I know where she’s been, and I know the whimsical why and how that came about, but the hard facts of what happened to cause the initial vanishing have eluded me. It came to me this morning, in a round-about way. The story isn’t what happened, it’s about what happens next.
Since Chris died, there is a definite theme in my writing–the Unanswered Question. A Thousand Different Ways, Entangled, Heroically Lost, and next The Empty Spaces all have that element to some degree. By the end of the book/s, the unanswered question is still unanswered. You have plenty of information to decide for yourself; that’s where I leave it. And I didn’t consciously realize this, and the connection to Christofer’s death, until this morning.
Life is full of unanswered questions, things we have to decide for ourselves to the best of our ability, and let go. We can see with our eyes, know in our hearts, but hard and definite answers are still elusive. Perspectives differ. Memories are more about the person remembering than the actual facts. Heartfelt, gut instinct is rife with the trap doors of our pasts. Comparatively, there are few absolutes, and we are left with our best guesses.
I think I’m good with the Unanswered Questions. At least, I know better than to bang my head too hard against that wall. There comes a time when you have to make your best guess, accept that there’s no way to 100% know and be okay with it.
Maybe I’m getting there. Maybe I’m still trying. And I’m okay with that.
Modesty Is For Suckers 
Very interesting! I need a lesson in accepting the unanswered questions of life……maybe I’ll learn that from your books. Hugs!
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You crack me up. ❤
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Sounds like a great read! Sometimes I think we aren’t supposed to have answers to all our questions. That way we’ll keep thinking, searching and learning ❤
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I hope it will be, Deb! I’m hoping to start it after VAB.
I like that–unanswered questions keep us thinking and searching. You’re absolutely right. Thanks!
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The wheels in my head never stop. You’re right, writing is a perfect outlet for directing the stream of consciousness thinking that goes on in a day–even into the night.
Funny that the parallel in your three books didn’t happen until after you wrote them, but I always believe there is a piece of us guiding our hand as we create
. Conscious or not, it plays into what is driving us towards certain story types.
The new story sounds wonderful!!
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I surprised myself with that, this morning.
Thanks!
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As in life, so in fiction? I don’t think authors have a responsibility to answer questions & although I like a sense of redemption – the possibility of some version of happy ever after – I trust my reader to make the answers she chooses.
You are writing what you know – that old chestnut! You are personally acquainted with the question[s] & the loss. And equally, what you don’t because we have to wait for the answer[s] & can’t know how long the wait will be. xXx
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That waiting…it’s when you think about it that it becomes unbearable.
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Of course. Which is why sometimes, you (we/all of us) write about what we don’t know as well – what we can hang our best guesses on.
We make this stuff up, cariad; life makes us up. xXx
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This perfect for me this morning. Thank you.
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🙂 ❤
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