In March, my father died. He was 85 years old and had had multiple strokes. The expectation was a slow, downhill spiral which would require a great deal of care and support. It didn’t turn out that way. He declined rapidly over the course of a week. My mother and I sat with him on his final day. We took the advantage that he could no longer talk to reminisce and make jokes at his expense. A visiting chaplain asked if it was okay to say some prayers for him. We said it was fine. My Dad was quite religious, so I knew it would mean a lot to him. Despite being an atheist, I found myself incredibly moved by his words.
We came back out at midnight to say farewell to his lifeless body. I was tired and confused. I assumed this was the right thing to do.
I stood up and read some of his poetry at the funeral. I never thought much of his poetry. Surprisingly, at the time it seemed magical and my reading couldn’t do it justice. I tried to steady myself by imagining I was doing stand-up. Tip for any stand ups who may have to go through this – DO NOT ATTEMPT IT. We played Take 5 (not the Northside single) at his request. It went on for bloody ages. This was amusing enough.
We all took time to come to terms with the loss.
Then my sister died.
This was a proper shock. I’m still not convinced it happened. I have to take a deep breath several times a day just to adjust. I have lost half my direct family in two months. We’re all reeling so much that we can’t even sort out a proper remembrance. Just shake our heads and go ‘bloody hell’.
My paranoia has intensified. I keep thinking ‘right…who’s next?’. The obvious candidates are no longer obvious. My sister was 58. I get chest pains from time to time and now I start to panic and go ‘Crap…it’s me. That’s annoying…I’ve got a wife and kid and five books to complete. Oh no…I’m on the toilet. I’m alone. Don’t let me die alone on the toilet. Please. Whoever you are. Even if you don’t exist’.
The pains subside.
So yeah…that’s a great way to start a blog, isn’t it?
Sorry to throw this all at you but I felt the need to write some stuff down and share it with random people. I’m not saying you’re all random. Actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We are all random, anyway. Billion to one chances wandering about aimlessly and generally trying to avoid reality until it hits them in the face.
Amazingly, I’m still working on Draft 3 of ‘The Ring that Echoes’. I’m almost done – just the last two chapters to scrutinise and polish. It’s a handy distraction for recent events.
I had got to the point where I was reading it through and thinking…you know what, this book could be really good? If only it wasn’t me that had to write it. Me, with my lumpen brain chock full of useless facts and barely any good words to describe the thing that happened to the thing. Me, with my B in English Language at GCSE level.
I’m actually rereading it and going ‘Wow! Some of the concepts here are pretty good and it all seems to hang together really well. If only that bit made a touch more sense. If only I could contact the author and ask them why they did that thing with the thing. Wait! What? I am the author?!! Seriously? I came up with this?! But this seems so far removed from anything I could currently conceive. You’re telling me that in order to find out about the backstory for Character A I have to go and write it myself? Jeez!!’
I’ll persevere. There are only 2 chapters and they’re fairly short. There are some issues in a couple of chapters in terms of delivering exposition. The main character has to go ‘Wait a minute…what’s going on? Explain why I should continue with this’ and another character goes ‘Well…it’s because blah de blah de blah’. Over the course of 2 chapters.
But that’s to correct in Draft 4. Structurally, I think it’s sound. There are backstories to figure out, but they’ll have to wait till July.
Next week I am due to move house and go live in Lewes. I haven’t mentioned it before because it’s fallen through a few times but as we’re now just a week away I feel a bit more confident.
Once I’m there I’m going to unpack boxes, paint walls and then just go and sit in the ruins of Lewes Priory on a warm, summers evening. Just to breathe. It feels more precious these days.