Writing Captured by Life's Experiences

Today, while I was wrapping up one of the last chapters of my novel, I burst into tears.  It was the first time I had ever cried during a scene.  I saw one of my main characters as clear as day and felt his pain go straight through my own heart.  It was a pivotal and captivating moment for me; to say the least. 

As we grow within our writing and extend our fingers way past the comfort zones and strides of the keyboard, there is something spiritual which happens deep within our souls.  It’s almost as if we become frozen in time.  We melt away with all of the emotions we have created not only for our characters, but which have been flourishing from the valleys rooted beneath the surface.  Our writing forces us to venture to places where we never thought even existed within ourselves. 

 

A friend of mine passed away four years ago.  His 37th birthday would have been last February.  He had brain aneurism which suddenly burst out of nowhere, and he instantly fell into a coma.  His mother found him on the floor of the kitchen, soaking in his own vomit.  I wanted to be there for him as soon as he was admitted into the hospital, but my boss needed me that week and I couldn’t commute four hours each day for work.  As soon as the weekend arrived, I hopped in my car and went straight to pick up my sister and headed to the hospital.  I gave my friend, G, my favorite rosary which his mother left in his hands until he finally left our world for good later that evening. 

Can you believe it?  It was almost as if he had waited for me to get there so I could hold his hand one final time and speak to him before he passed on.  The monitor in the ICU kept making sounds whenever I got close to him and spoke.  I asked the nurse if this was normal and she said, “No,” and she believed he could hear us.  But truth be told, the doctors said he was brain dead and would never recover.  He died a few hours later; after my visit.

That moment right there; knowing I would never see my friend again nor have a second chance at continuing our love which was started when we were teenagers… that moment was engraved in a special part of my heart and will never disperse.  It has a certain rapture on my most kindred memories of the two of us together.  This doesn't necessarily mean I still love him the way I did when I was 16, 17 and 18 years old.  But it does mean I will always love the time we spent together and a rare companionship which lasted until the day he died. 

Why am I mentioning my first love, who was also a lifelong friend, and what does it have to do with my writing?  Everything. 

 

Letting my friend go was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life after I buried my Daddy C.  They were two people who loved and adored me; truly and unconditionally.  So when I had to say goodbye to someone in my novel, I felt those emotions rumbling in the depths of the deepest canyons of my soul.  I cried so much that I had to close the computer and run to Church.  I’ve learned the silence in prayer or the solace of an early morning on the beach can both help to sooth even my most dismal, sad and darkest thoughts. 

My friend would have been proud of the writer I’ve become and author I’m still aspiring to be.  I know he and my late father are looking down on me, weightlessly catching my tears as they stream down my curiously sad face.  But that is the thing we must always remember as creators, thinkers, mentors, writers, authors, etc.  We are still here, living and breathing and most importantly, curious… That waters may be shallow at times but on the other hand, they might also be ten thousand feet deep.  We have the opportunity to create the most epic and astounding reasoning; decorating this world with our imagination and endless thoughts. 

Sadly, some of our loved ones are no longer able to paint the world with us.  So now, when I get lost in a scene or drive my inner voice mad, angry or sullenly distraught, I tell myself that it is okay and I’m making something so beautiful, my Daddy C and my first love, G, are going to be proud of me today. 

Here’s looking at all of you, my fellow writers, family and friends, and wishing you an astounding week succumbed by a driving force so passionate, the keys on your laptop won’t know what hit them!

What has been the driving force or fuel in your life, blogs, writing and/or scenes?