Back when I was eleven years old, I decided to write a novel. It was a tale of five siblings living alone. I think I was angry at my parents for some minor infraction like telling me what to do. Not that I was used to rule. I had few- and breaking Ma's one rule.. DO NOT DO ANYTHING THAT THE NEIGHBORS, FAMILY or Friends might find out about and cause gossip. I had no curfew, I could wear what I wanted, read what I wanted, but anything that Ma thought would be embarrassing to her or the family broke that rule. I broke it often, and did it with a mighty flourish after I finished college. I probably broke that rule. which set me onto writing about those five children with no parents fooling the school and everyone else to think their parents were still home. I wrote on that novel almost every night until just before I went to college and in one of my stupid moves of my entire life. I burned every notebook I had wrote my novel. It made a nice fire, but it was stupid.
I told people for years I wanted to write a novel. I wrote stories in my Christmas cards It was my gift to my friends every year. Most told me I needed to do so. When I retired, I joked that I would finally do it, but I knew Ma was ninety and I was needed elsewhere. Everyone but one of my coworkers wished me well on my project. One worker said to me, "Todd ( I was dubbed this years before when I and another Mary sat beside each other and I told them to call me Todd, It stuck), you have accomplished more than most people in this field. don't expect anything with your writing." All those well wishers did not hit a chord with me, but her comment did. It was one of those sneaky thoughts that slither into your thinking saying you will fail. In my father's house, failure was not acceptable, you had to do more than try, quitting was not allowed, and can't was not ever used at anytime. This worker, whom I knew was actually praising me because I was good at my job, did not realize that her one statement meant to make me realize I had success enough in this life did the exact opposite.
I told stories to myself since I knew words. Ma and others said I was either singing or making up fantastical tales from the time I could talk. Most nights I put myself to sleep telling myself stories long before I started writing that ill-fated novel of my youth. In my job traveling all over the state of South Carolina, if I couldn't find some form of jazz or talk radio, I told myself stories. That is how Sardis Runion came about.
One of my friends told me that Sardis Runion is a bad name. I told her I can't help it, Sardis told me her name. I rode past a church in the low country and she said, "That be my front name." It was a Sardis Methodist Church, and I knew she was an older mountain woman. A couple of years later she said to me as I passedstreet sign in the upstate, "That be my back name," The street was Runion Drive. I mean if she says that is her name what was I to do. Before I retired, Sardis kept trying to get my attention.
I wanted it to be a story of forgiveness and healing based on my father's childhood loosely. I settled on a title. She did not like it. Well, I actually agreed with her. In the end it may end up being Sardis's journey. It will still be a story of healing and eventual forgiveness. It was going to be a novel of a Christian woman who had witnessed all these bad things as a child who forgives those that harmed her. It will still do this, but this is a woman who has lived life, and some would call a sinful life, but on this journey to healing... some of it she had to go through. But I believe even when we stray.. we can find our way home. I know I have. Eventually she will come to a place of faith and forgiveness of herself and others.
I was not faithful in my writing. I was just like a stick floating down the river with no real direction. Then the internet died, and I decided to write on that novel...with no official name. but with one feisty stubborn and refuses to give up woman. Some will say that sounds like me. My computer died on November 18, 2019 and I have handwritten about two hundred pages some which I have edited to no one will see land. I figure more will disappear... I think I am close to finishing this novel, and have a grand idea for the next one. I think I will be sad when this novel is finished. I have grown to really like Sardis Runion- although she can be very bossy if I take her down the wrong path.
Now will any of you see it. I have yet to get my book on my journey through grief published, but that will come.
I told people for years I wanted to write a novel. I wrote stories in my Christmas cards It was my gift to my friends every year. Most told me I needed to do so. When I retired, I joked that I would finally do it, but I knew Ma was ninety and I was needed elsewhere. Everyone but one of my coworkers wished me well on my project. One worker said to me, "Todd ( I was dubbed this years before when I and another Mary sat beside each other and I told them to call me Todd, It stuck), you have accomplished more than most people in this field. don't expect anything with your writing." All those well wishers did not hit a chord with me, but her comment did. It was one of those sneaky thoughts that slither into your thinking saying you will fail. In my father's house, failure was not acceptable, you had to do more than try, quitting was not allowed, and can't was not ever used at anytime. This worker, whom I knew was actually praising me because I was good at my job, did not realize that her one statement meant to make me realize I had success enough in this life did the exact opposite.
I told stories to myself since I knew words. Ma and others said I was either singing or making up fantastical tales from the time I could talk. Most nights I put myself to sleep telling myself stories long before I started writing that ill-fated novel of my youth. In my job traveling all over the state of South Carolina, if I couldn't find some form of jazz or talk radio, I told myself stories. That is how Sardis Runion came about.
One of my friends told me that Sardis Runion is a bad name. I told her I can't help it, Sardis told me her name. I rode past a church in the low country and she said, "That be my front name." It was a Sardis Methodist Church, and I knew she was an older mountain woman. A couple of years later she said to me as I passedstreet sign in the upstate, "That be my back name," The street was Runion Drive. I mean if she says that is her name what was I to do. Before I retired, Sardis kept trying to get my attention.
I wanted it to be a story of forgiveness and healing based on my father's childhood loosely. I settled on a title. She did not like it. Well, I actually agreed with her. In the end it may end up being Sardis's journey. It will still be a story of healing and eventual forgiveness. It was going to be a novel of a Christian woman who had witnessed all these bad things as a child who forgives those that harmed her. It will still do this, but this is a woman who has lived life, and some would call a sinful life, but on this journey to healing... some of it she had to go through. But I believe even when we stray.. we can find our way home. I know I have. Eventually she will come to a place of faith and forgiveness of herself and others.
I was not faithful in my writing. I was just like a stick floating down the river with no real direction. Then the internet died, and I decided to write on that novel...with no official name. but with one feisty stubborn and refuses to give up woman. Some will say that sounds like me. My computer died on November 18, 2019 and I have handwritten about two hundred pages some which I have edited to no one will see land. I figure more will disappear... I think I am close to finishing this novel, and have a grand idea for the next one. I think I will be sad when this novel is finished. I have grown to really like Sardis Runion- although she can be very bossy if I take her down the wrong path.
Now will any of you see it. I have yet to get my book on my journey through grief published, but that will come.