I took this photo of myself the other day when I reached the end of my rough draft. I'm holding the draft, all 271 pages of it. That was a happy night, and I celebrated with a few emails and phone calls. And a couple beers.Of course I'm still not done. The work goes on. Editing. Rewriting. Adding new things. Taking out sentences that make me cringe. Smiling when I come across things that I'm proud to have written. The work of writing goes on, and I'm happy to do it. Leaving a long trail of words for the reader to follow.
The book improves each time I go over it. This is a satisfying thing. And one of these days I'll pick up where I left off on my search for a publisher. But for now I'm just enjoying the beautiful struggle of creation.
I've been working hard, many long days and late nights, and I thank my family and friends for their support. I need and appreciate it very much. Many people come home from their jobs and talk about the day with their family or friends. I take a break from my writing so I can write about writing.
And when the words get heavy and the glare of the computer screen gets to be too much, I like to rest myself in the old hammock of music. I listen to songs, or play my guitar, of work on some lyrics that suddenly flash across my mind's window like birds in the twilight.
And the great deadline of death is there in the distance. Moving closer. Looming. Challenging me. Death and life weigh heavily on my mind. Two of my friends died last month: Dr. Vladimir deLissovoy and Faye Beavan. They were peaceful deaths, each one at the end of a long and good life. My love goes out to their families, now and always, for the grieving process is one that never really ends. I've been thinking about Dr. D and Faye quite often, remembering them when I come across a part of my book that I know they would have enjoyed.
I knew Dr. D for a long time, ever since I was a young boy in State College. He and his wife Charlotte were kind and generous neighbors. They taught me things and told me stories. Just like my parents, they encouraged my curiosity. And later on, after I finished college, Dr. D and Charlotte were always very supportive of my writing, which is something that I greatly appreciate.
Now I met Faye through my friends the Batemans: Travis, Graham, Valerie, and Russell. Faye was Valerie's mother, and Travis and Graham's grandmother. She was always there at the backyard parties and holiday parities, smiling, laughing, telling stories, singing. The last conversation I had with Faye was actually about music. I played and sang my song for Jean Shepherd, and she started telling me about the songs that she had written.
Both friends will be missed and remembered, by me and many others.
We affect each other, we really do, sometimes more than we realize. There's a lot of minor chords out in the world, but there's a lot of love too. Love is a pretty cool thing because it doesn't require money, just time. Time, when you think about it, is really one of the most valuable things that we have. Thanks for reading and thanks for sharing your time with me.
Fondly (which is a sign off that I borrowed from Dr. D),
Jeff
