Just Because I’m Quitting Doesn’t Mean I’m Finished
Last February I began this blog as an out-of-the-box way to put my book, The Potluck, out into the world. It was a worthy experiment, and once I got a handle on the technology, I had fun doing it. I also learned a couple of things, among them that it is hard to blog a novel because of its nature: to make sense of a work of fiction the reader has to start at the beginning. A blog has a different nature: a reader can read the most recent post and it will make sense all by itself. Hopefully it will also stimulate back-reading as well as future loyalty. (As my mentor keeps telling me, the Internet is not linear!)
Another thing I discovered is that when you write something, some of it does come true, which, as you may recall, was the point of the “writing my future” experiment I described in Post #1. Now, as I watch some unexpected adventures line up in my life, I am reminded of the story Renee tells, at Joe’s request, to some urban gang members in Chapter 6 and wonder if I mainly wrote the book to jump-start my own future:
“A man with a golden tattoo is making his way slowly down the mountain into the village below. He has spent his life on the mountain studying the art of war, developing his skills, and this is his first visit to the village. The village is very poor. The people don’t have enough food and that sometimes causes them to fight with each other. Their huts are small and dirty. There are no schools, so the children run ragged in the streets.
“The man from the mountain is tall and strong. His head is shaved, he sports a goatee and the image of a swastika gleams on his right arm.”
“What is a swastika?” The question came from the girl in the yellow skirt.
“White supremacy!” (their leader) Raphael sneered as he pulled a can of black paint from a bag he carried over his shoulder. He sprayed a viable replica of the symbol onto the sidewalk.
Renee’s response was calm, “The swastika is an ancient symbol of peace.”
“Why would a warrior want peace?” The young man who asked looked incredulous.
Renee was so into her story she did not hear his question. “The man with the golden tattoo has learned his art well. His sword gleams in the sunlight. His stance is bold. He swings the weapon as he dances in the shimmer of its blade. There is music in his method and joy in his heart. He is full of untested power. He has come to bring justice to the village. To right the wrongs. To bring peace.”
Joe picked up his knapsack, slipped his arms through the loops and settled it comfortably on his back. “Thanks so much, Renee.”
Annoyed, Raphael demanded. “So then what happens? Swords bring war, not peace.”
Joe beckoned Renee to join him as he strolled away. “What happens is for you to decide. We will return later and you will tell us the ending,” he called back to them.
One of the other young men shouted, “But it’s her story. She came here and started telling us, so she needs to let us know what happens.”
Joe was implacable. “No, it is your story. She only came to remind you.”
And this is where I end this blog because I need to pay attention to my inner knowing that it was a stepping stone to the next thing. At the end of December, 2013, this site will change into my author website while the blog evaporates forever into cyberspace. I hope you will check out the website and also my Facebook page where you can stay abreast of my adventures–writing or otherwise–as they are unfolding. And of course you can always reach me by e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org