Powerless in Madison

We've been without power for several days, but we aren't directly coping with it because we're in Nashville till it is restored. There are several neighborhoods around my neighborhood that are back to power thanks to the hard work of the Huntsville Utilities Board. I'm not sure how they are restoring it or what their plan for restoration is, but I hope people can hang tight till they are back on the grid.

Today we head to a hotel, then back to Madison to check on our kitties. The HU has asked us all to prepare our homes for when the power comes back on. We have to unplug small appliances, unplug the computers, turn off lights, and cut the breaker to the hot water tank. All this to prevent damage to our stuff. In a way I am glad we don't have power because I've got to get home to get these things done.

It's weird being a nomad. I haven't written a word. I've talked about writing. But no time to write. And that's okay. This waiting time is okay. I'll be back in front of my computer soon enough. Others will not be so lucky.

We may not have electrical power, but we have other powers to draw from as we weather the next few days. Throughout all of this I hope to maintain a sense of humor and a measure of patience along with a huge dollop of gratitude.

We are beyond lucky!

The Dark Night of the Soul: All is Lost

I'm a writer. I write commercial fiction. I follow a basic structure and format as I cobble together my story. I also let the muse come in and dance when I am in first draft mode. This dance releases me from the handcuffs of perfection. However, it does not release me from the reality of following a basic map. A guideline of sorts that gives me an idea of where I'm supposed to end up. Every story, whether carefully plotted or not, must have certain elements in it in order to fly into the publishing world.

Some of the elements are compelling characters, a unique hook or high concept, an interesting plot line, and a mastery of basic writing craft. I'll be the first to admit that grammar is my least favorite element to master. I'm a decent writer, an intuitive writer, but I am not a super technical writer. I don't have years of technical writing as a profession, nor do I have a degree in English, Literature, or journalism. But I don't believe I need any of those things in my background to be a good, compelling storyteller. 

That's what I am and what I have always been. A storyteller. An imaginative, creative, daydreamer with thousands of ideas and wonderings about how people mesh together despite the odds against them. I'd like to believe that I have a lot to give as a writer because I also have a wealth of experience that comes from having lived a life that wasn't perfect. I've experienced loss, loneliness, extreme fear, the daunting aspect of where will I live tomorrow? I've experienced hunger, real hunger, because I didn't have enough money to pay both the rent and the grocery bill. I've experienced the Dark Night of the Soul. I know what is like to believe All Is Lost. 

Understanding the Dark Night of the Soul is a key element to writing compelling stories. If I had always had everything run smoothly in my life and if I always received accolades for my hard work, I'd never be able to truly translate the dark night of the soul onto the page. 

What is the dark night of the soul in the writing world? In novels it is the part of the book where the reader believes the hero and or heroine have lost everything. There's been a terrible black moment. In a romance, the black moment is emotionally gripping. The hero and heroine walk away from each other because they believe they've lost their chance at true love. They believe all is lost and there is no way back. But they're wrong. And as a writer, I owe it to my readers to bring these two people back together because they do deserve each other. How they've grown emotionally, despite their backgrounds and their emotional baggage constantly driving them apart, is they way they will find a path to each other.

The dark night of the soul is an intensely personal, emotional moment for the hero and the heroine. As much as I'd like to make my readers laugh a little, the truth is that at this moment if my readers aren't reaching for a tissue, I've failed. This isn't easy stuff to write, folks. This is mining the heart. This is where the technically sound, pulled together neat little story might just fall apart. Why? Because the depth of emotion isn't there for the reader. They aren't sad. They aren't feeling anything. They may even think the couple should stay apart. 

In fiction, the Dark Night of the Soul is resolved by the writer's words. In real life, the Dark Night of the Soul isn't so easily resolved. So how do we mere humans, myself included, survive and grow past the feeling that All is Lost? We can't rewrite the terrible circumstances. We can't re-order the world into a nice, neat box. We can't make the pain of the loss evaporate in an instant. 

I think if we allow ourselves to feel the pain, to know the pain, to acknowledge the pain then we will get through it because we've been HONEST with ourselves and our emotions. We need to reach out to our most trusted friends and life's companions and reveal the truth about the darkness within. Even C.S. Lewis suffered from extreme bouts of depression. He turned to his friends for guidance, for support, for encouragement. 

I've experienced the Dark Night of the Soul when I was sixteen years old. I could no longer live at home, but I had no place to go. I had no relatives to take me in. I had no one to watch over me. I was as alone as a girl can be with my one blue suitcase in my hand. That was all I possessed. One suitcase of clothing. I literally had no place to go. But a girl I'd barely known, someone I'd briefly shared my sad tale to while at school, had told her mother about me and this family of strangers took me in. They housed me for over a year.

I've experienced the Dark Night of the Soul. I remember calling my best friend up when I thought I could never have a child. I was ironing (I always iron when I am scared or upset). I'd suffered so many miscarriages that this last pregnancy attempt was literally my last go. I just couldn't face another loss. I needed her to hear my pain, to hear me cry and wail at the wall of my misery of loss. I needed to unleash the firestorm of anger, sorrow, and agony within me because I was going to be denied the one thing I so desperately wanted. She said she'd carry a baby for me if I needed her. And that was when the darkness lifted. I wasn't alone.

I've experienced the Dark Night of the Soul. I remember working on my third manuscript when I received a call from my best friend's husband. He was unusually calm, yet he wasn't himself. My friend had a diseased kidney that had to be removed. They were 99% sure she had cancer. The sheer drop of my heart into my stomach can't even begin to describe my fear for her. For me. This woman who had known me through many of my dark nights, who'd held my child and cared for her when I was finally blessed with a baby, who'd counseled me wisely and without holding back, was in danger. And there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it. For three weeks we waited for news about her life. Three. Long. Weeks. We talked a lot. We laughed a lot. But behind the laughter there was a beast of dread so dark in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't focus, couldn't breath, couldn't relax. What if all was lost? I turned to my faith, my friends, and my hope for encouragement. The day my friend called to say she was cancer free ranks up there in the top 5 golden moments of my life. The house rang with our joy, it bounced off the ceiling and ping ponged around the rooms as we laughed our first unrestrained laughs in weeks.

The Dark Night of the Soul. All is Lost. But nothing is lost until we give up and say there is no hope. That is what we as writers, as people, must strive for in our lives. Cultivate hope. Cultivate friendships that nurture your hope. Hope restores light into our lives, into our characters' lives, and restores us to a place of peace and happiness.

Friends Bring Memories

I am on hiatus. Today I ran errands, went to the grocery store, and readied the house for my friends to arrive for a visit.

Yay!

Best of all, when they did, the house filled with a buzzing warmth and activity. We have two adorable young girls, their mom, and their aunt here for a few days. Out come the Littlest Pet Shop bins filled with all my darling daughter's collection. Out come the kid snacks, the mayhem, the crazy clutter of fun. 

Out comes the chatter. The chatter of young sisters playing, fussing, ordering, and repeating all the above. The chatter of friends sharing goals and memories, making a meal together, and visiting on the veranda.

Out comes the happiness. The joy of seeing dear friends, their children, sharing hopes and dreams, visions and lives. Out comes my mini moment of oh, can I bottle this time? Can I keep it please? But I can't.

After a few days, this wonderful hurricane of happy life and energy will whirl out of my house and head north to Virginia. And my new house will become silent. Empty. Ghosts of fun tripping in my halls bringing wistful moments. 

Moments where I wonder why we moved, moments of loneliness and isolation as I miss the ease of being in their company, and moments of optimism in nurturing new relationships to their full bloom. 

For having accomplished this amazing sense of connection time and time again, I know it is possible.