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February 22, 2007
On Writing
From the time I was in sixth or seventh grade my best friend at the time (Kim) and I read Harlequin romance novels. You have to understand that these first novels where nothing but pure romance and there was not one hint of sex in them and maybe only one kiss. There was always a distressed heroine left at the mercy of the hero who was a sheik, a king, amprince or wealthy rancher.
About the time I was midway through seventh grade I started writing my own 'romance novels'. They were spiral bound notebooks filled with pencil and ink scribbles as my young mind played out torrid romances between cowboys and city girls. Farm girls and city boys. One was even about a cowboy who only drank Coca Cola. (I am NOT a pepsi person and never have been.)
Over the years I continued to write. Notebooks stacked up with all sorts of stories in them. At one time there was 25 or 30 notebooks and diary type journals filled with poetry, essays and my epic romances. In my early twenties I would pull them out and read them. Some were fairly good and I would amaze myself that I had strung those words together that seemed to me by then as if someone else had written passages in the notebooks.
Around the time Colby was in kindergarden I was working fulltime as an activity director in a nursing home and disaster struck. Where we lived was far out in the rural farming community. There was and still is not public facilities for water and sewage services. We had a well and a septic tank.
In a freakish and rare event something caused a vacuum in the septic tank. The entire septic tank emptied itself in my house through the bathroom drains and toilet. The floor in our bedroom, bathroom and back hallway all closets were flooded with 6 or more inches of sewage.
The house was empty. It happened when we were at work during the day. I found it when I came home. Not one single person offered us help. It was a cleanup that I had to undertake on my own. The cleaning up, ripping out and sanitizing was all done by myself and no one else.
I cried the entire time.
Boxes of photos, scrapbooks, things from my teenage years stored in boxes under my bed and in my closet, ruined. Nothing could be salvaged. The notebooks filled with my stories, notes, poetry and the first magazine that ever published my work -gone.
Every single peice of paper, written or with photo lost forever in a freakish accident that no one would ever expect to happen. Not only did I lose most of the things from Colby's infancy but I lost other things that to this day are still important to that girl in me and that part of my heart. Love letters from my first ever true love - gone. I still morn their loss because it was the first time anyone had ever taken a moment to say anything to me that made me feel special. The records of Colby's birth and her first photos - gone. Even more excruciating to through the scraps of blackened paper that no longer looked like anything useful and the words and images distroyed.
I cried and I cleaned. No one seemed to care at all. A few people even laughed.
Now I don't write as much as I once did. I don't hoard boxes of papers and books.
I write stories and posts in my head. Once I flesh them out and write them there the need to put them in print fades away.
What do I do when I am sitting with a sick baby who wants to do nothing but nurse? What do I do when I am washing dishes and folding laundry?
I write romance novels in my head.
Posted by Angie at February 22, 2007 08:46 AM
Comments
That is awful! I can not even imagine how terrible that was, I can not belive people laughed - that's like laughing when a tornado damages someone's home - an unforseeable tragedy.
So sorry that you lost all those memories.
Posted by: Catherine at February 22, 2007 09:34 AM
That is awful! I can not even imagine how terrible that was, I can not belive people laughed - that's like laughing when a tornado damages someone's home - an unforseeable tragedy.
So sorry that you lost all those memories.
Posted by: Catherine at February 22, 2007 09:35 AM
That's heartbreaking! I hope someday you'll have the time and interest in writing down those novels you're composing in your head.
Posted by: ggirl at February 22, 2007 11:17 AM
That really stinks! (no meanness meant by me) It's a shame that someone would actually laugh at such a thing. We are the ones missing out on your great writing. I still miss your Nano (is that what it was called?) writings. I want to know how that story ends. It's great. Hope you are feeling better, Donna
Posted by: Donna at February 22, 2007 12:30 PM
I would have cried the entire time, too. Glimpses into your past really show me what a strong woman the 'crappy' times have made you. Consider yourself cyber hugged today.
Posted by: Hope at February 22, 2007 01:50 PM
Angie that is horrible to have had to go through that. I cannot imagine. You must have gotten stronger after that!
I don't like Pepsi either.
Posted by: kenju at February 22, 2007 05:39 PM
I am so sorry. Sorry especially that you had to go through it alone. And sorry that all those things and writings are gone. I would have helped you muck out.
Posted by: liz at February 22, 2007 09:16 PM
That sounds as miserable as anything I can imagine and it is truly sad that you lost so many journals and photos. I'm glad you have such a "big" head and heart that you can hold all those memories, all that love and still have room for true romance novels!
Posted by: vicki at February 22, 2007 11:45 PM
It speaks to the power of your words that reading that story now, makes me weep. Really weep. I can just imagine losing so much.
I'm glad you found somewhere else to write.
I'm glad I found that place.
I'm glad we are friends.
Posted by: CPA Mom at February 26, 2007 09:08 PM