Diagnosis

It’s true, whenever I get sick, I anticipate the worst. Last Sunday night I got the stomach flu, or something along those lines, with the usual symptoms that keep you in the bathroom for quite a while. The recovery period lasted about 48 hours during which I ate nothing, and gladly dropped a few pounds (but not worth it). As I took to my bed with heating pad in tow, this down time allowed for reflection as to what was really underlying my malady. 

My dear friend’s husband has stage four pancreatic cancer. Her family and closest friends have rallied to support her as she has made a valiant effort to honor his request to be at home for the duration. As an observer of his devastating decline and occasional participant in his care, I found it hard to believe by Monday morning that I too had not contracted pancreatic cancer. After all, did I not have similar symptoms as to what he originally experienced before his diagnosis? 

Several other possibilities occurred to me as I lay in bed, sending Tim out to get ingredients to meet my curative requirements, including buying and grating fresh ginger for tea. It could be appendicitis, a kidney stone, even a heart attack. I looked up every one. Time to rule out, or in, the most dire outcomes.

On Monday night, although certain death was imminent, I summoned the energy to watch the HBO special “Everything is Copy” about Nora Ephron’s life. If I was too sick to work on my own book, I could at least learn about an admired author and her process. Ms. Ephron passed away in 2012 of acute myeloid leukemia, the same rotten cancer that took my sister-in-law Patty’s life.  So naturally I wanted to watch, also because Ms. Ephron has been known to have keen observations about life and love, and as it turned out, death. 

 

Her version of AML gave her time to consider how she wanted to cope, and her decision was to keep her illness private, something I most likely will not do. (My recent end-of-life trauma was communicated to anyone who would listen.) The program did inspire me to consider something she did in her final years. She made a list of things she would miss, and those she would not. In discussing this with a friend, I said that this seemed a useful exercise as it makes you appreciate what you have and to be grateful. He said, rather astutely I thought, it’s also a way to remove the clutter from your life. If you identify those things that you will miss, your focus can change and those items will rise to the top and hopefully you can drop the least important ones completely.  

Since it was becoming clear that my days were numbered, I started my own list and found many of the things I would and would not miss are the same, or at least similar to Ms. Ephron’s. I hope to hold this list in my mind always so that my remaining years will be clutter free. What I won’t miss is a short list, so I’ll get that out of the way: the news. 

Now, without mentioning the obvious people who have stayed with me for the long haul and hopefully know that without them my life would be meaningless, here are some of the things I will miss:

• My house
• Max and Rusty
• A fire
• Strawberry rhubarb pie
• Bed
• Aspetuck Reservoir
• Pizza
• Walking in the woods
• Barley wine beer
• The Joel Barlow track
• Getting the Christmas tree

Hmm, Ms. Ephron was right.  Everything is copy.

The Year of Getting Serious About Writing

My first anniversary as a Westport Writers’ Workshop participant arrived this past January 12^th. Since then I have attended every session they’ve held for fiction writers and have graduated to Advanced Fiction/Manuscript, my first workshop of 2016. 

 

After spending nearly three years trying to write a novel on my own, in a vacuum, it occurred to me that I needed help. A Mike and Molly episode (the one where she attends a writer’s workshop in Iowa) was the impetus for my revelation and charge into action. 

Not knowing a thing about workshops or what would be expected of me, right out of the box I found myself reading five pages of my long labor of love – out loud, in front of strangers. Since then, the continuing experience has saved me in more ways than I can count. But let me try:

1. My writing has improved dramatically, and so say all including my stalwart workshop leader, who often provides line edits for weekly submitted pages that give me the most useful guidance and encouragement.
2. I have met talented, intelligent and interesting fellow writers who never fail to amuse and entertain with their creative projects.
3. The depression I experienced following my departure from a full-time, marketing communications management position nearly did me in. “Oh, how will I survive without the structure of 8-5 days and a hefty paycheck.” Not only have I survived on far less, but I have thrived on being master of my time, allowing me to live out my life as a writer, and attempt to assuage my desire to be an author.
4. My book, based on a compilation of real-life corporate incidents and characters, is now over 70,000 words. I have written “The End” about four times, but as most writers know, there is always room for improvement, and my workshop colleagues lead me in new directions after every reading that improve my story and writing.
5. I am learning all the time as I do research for my book, a psychological thriller, on homicide investigations, forensics, cellular technology, and the law – criminal, contract and employment.
6. In order to make the setting as real and interesting as possible, I need to frequently visit the Boston area where my story takes place. Naturally, this includes dining at great restaurants and fun brew pubs.
7. Because I want my book to be not only intriguing, but credible, I have had the privilege of meeting with a detective from New York who shared fascinating views into the real world of crime and investigation while answering all my questions to be sure my plot holds together.
8. You don’t have to ask me twice to read good literature, and happily that is the advice every published author gives aspiring writers. I rarely leave the house without a book on CD cued up in my car, and a hard copy for when I’m not moving. 
9. I wake up every day with a purpose and a goal to write at least a page if not a chapter. The value of the effort always depends on level of inspiration, and I am lucky to have that in abundance after every workshop.
10. Sometimes we share personal experiences or challenges from the previous week (our intrepid leader has referred to our meetings as group therapy); we always share writing struggles, successes and breakthroughs; and best of all, we laugh, usually courtesy of a particularly funny story someone has written and read to an appreciative audience.

It’s been a full year of Mondays, a day I anticipate and prepare for all week because that’s when I meet with my group and talk about writing. As it turns out, that’s all the structure I need.