It's been 12 years. In so many ways it seems like yesterday and at the same time like a life time ago. Twelve years since I looked at his handsome face, his emerald green eyes always sparkling with the vibrancy of life. May 8 was the apex of our relationship. May 9 began the slow spiraling downhill descent. With the enchantment of the May 8th evening, I thought the relationship would only get better, more exciting, sense and feelings heightened, but this was not the way the story goes.
Our story. For four years I could only replay our story in my mind. Just like our relationship, the days crescendoed until May 8th, then a decline in intense emotions. Finally after four years, I realized I had to write about our relationship, to tell our story. One of the ways that I make sense of my life is to write about it. Writing about a situation forces me to think about what's happening, to make abstract become real, concrete.
So, four years after we went our seperate ways, I found myself in the mountains of North Carolina vacationing. The mountains, stretching, reaching heavenward, standing tall and proud. Lush green thickness of grass and trees, streams gurgling, beautiful bird song. A balm for my heavy soul on an early spring day in May. Sitting in a rocking chair on a front porch cabin, I put pen to paper pouring out my heart and soul. I remember that day vividly, when healing began. After a day of hiking sitting on a porch with a river continuously flowing in front of me, on crsip, clean, stark white paper, I began the messiness, the realness of our story, from the fledgling awkwardness of our flirting, to the fluttering passion, the craziness of love, to the everyday mundanity of a relationship. There were times that I was consumed by thoughts of him. He was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, he was in my last thoughts before I drifted off to sleep. Inevitably I often dreamed about him.
I wrote the story in starts and stops, sputtering and puttering along. There was not a straight line from point A to point B. For a while I would write daily, then when things felt heavy, too much, my emotions on overload, like I was going to fall apart, never to be reassembled, I'd take a break from writing to distance myself, gain some insight, some stregth to tackle it again.
When I journaled the other day the questions of why were answered. Why I began to write the story: writing is healing. Writing Vance Woods helped me heal from love gained and love lost. Writing and healing, healing and writing. They are the same.
So after eight years, I was able to pose other questions for myself. Why have I started to edit the story and why do I want it published? I want Vance Woods to have the fire, life, and vibrancy that I had when actually experiencing first love, but at the same time I want the writing succinct, tight, concise, and direct. Love is what Life is all about. I know I'm not the first person to be in love, falling desparately, I won't be the last either. At the same time I want to feel connected to others and others connected to me. I don't want anyone to feel alone. I want a reader to pick up my book, read it, and mentally say yes, they have experienced these feelings and felt this way. There will be someone who remembers the first flickers of their first love. I want a person to pick up my book and have my words touch their heart, resonate within them, and know they are not alone. They will survive, they will heal, they will thrive!