You saved me.
I had written a script for my life and it blew up, so I sat on a couch and ate for three months. Then I decided to write about what had happened. From Dec. 1 of 2008, through March of 2009, I told my story to you and to myself. Then I felt better.
You held my hand for three and a half months while I figured it out. I don't want to think about what I would have done if you hadn't been here. Chapter One of Shaving with Connie Francis went up exactly a year ago. I didn't know what to expect. Here's what I got:
"This is an amazing piece...."
"Wow."
"Felt it....I too was a hospice caregiver."
"What an awesome gift you have."
"...that clear and amazing voice."
"I adore your writing style."
I felt like a rock star. Really. Like Bruuuuce at Madison Square Garden. It felt good, so I kept writing.
A little history, for those of you who don't know me well. My previous by-line appeared in 1983 in The Wabash (IN) Plain Dealer. I thought Wabash would be a brief stop on my way to Rolling Stone. It would up being a brief stop on my way to Palookaville, where I wore a series of shirts with "Jim" stenciled above the pocket.
By the time I sobered up I had a wife, then children, then a mortgage. I kept putting on the shirts, sometimes two a day, and thanking God I hadn't wound up where guys like me usually wind up, dead or in jail. I didn't give much thought to writing. I loved to read, but writing would be for someone else.
I settled into a career for 17 years when my fallen arches landed me on the disabled list. I would need a series of cortisone treatments and orthopedic inserts and physical therapy. While this was happening my wife's folks, her father and her uncle, were in need of more attention that anyone could give. We brought them into our home. We paid pretty serious money for their care while we were at work, so when I took time off for my injury, I fired the guy and took his job.
I figured this would be it for me for a couple of years, during which time I would figure out what to do with the rest of my life, but life is what happens while you are busy making plans, and so it was for me. One of my guys began a death spiral that took only a few months. As this was happening, as we prepared ourself for Mike's passing, a young nephew overdosed on heroin and died. Mike died about ten days later, and exactly one week later, Jerry joined him.
It was all over by late August, 2008. And there I sat. I read a recovery-based book about writing, The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron, and I started writing. I thought some of the scenes with Mike and Jerry would make pretty good stories. So I wrote longhand, and finally on the Pages application on my Mac.
If I were to critique them now, I would probably say, "I'm sure there's a good story in here. But I'll be damned if I can find it..." I remember this phrase from a college J-school instructor, who would red-ink the thing for me, circling whole paragraphs and insisting "you're making it harder than it really is. Just tell the fucking story."
I enjoyed writing, but as long as the thing was going to sit in a drawer, what was the difference?
The election steered me to Open Salon. I followed the wonks over here (I use wonk affectionately) but I thought some of the more personal stories really stood out. I discovered some who adhered to what would be my mantra: Tell the story that only you can tell. So I took my three chapters and re-wrote them on OS.
I hit "publish," and I got eight comments the first day. Hardly Madison Square Garden numbers, but I gotta tell 'ya, I was jazzed, and jacked and jubilationized. I asssumed "Shaving" would be four or five chapters. It was seventeen.
Writing that series pulled me out of whatever hole I was in. I couldn't see what had happened to me until I finished the story: Three people I loved had died. I had fallen into a black hole of depression. I had developed and refined my nuturing skills but I had never been very good at letting people nurture me. I went to a lot of AA meetings, but I didn't feel any better when I got home. I ignored our oldest and surest guarantee of recovery: Help the next guy. I was too busy suffering to help anyone. Fuck 'em.
I had in the later years of my drinking developed a distain for taverns and other public places. Too many people. They interfered with the task at hand.
So there I sat on my couch, alone again. Eating now instead of drinking. Then I hit "publish" and my world changed. I had a reason to get off the couch. Iyam what Iyam and now I know what Iyam, as Popeye might say between puffs of his pipe. I'm a writer. An unpolished writer, perhaps. So what? An undisciplined writer, for sure. Since "Shaving," I have started two novels without knowing how they would end. I have dropped one of them, and restarted and re-jiggered the other. I have narrowed it down to three possible endings. I take long walks and when I think I have figured it out, I sit cross-legged in the dark on a sidewalk and scrawl: "Maria doesn't fuck Chris until the end. Let's get there so they can do it. Too many characters. Lose Rubin."
This may strike some as Jack Torrence and his thousand pages of "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" but I have never been more happy that I am while my mind functions like that of a toddler, turning a wooden block over and around looking for the hole into which it fits. There is peace in this process for me. It gives my mind something to do.
One of my favorite movies is "Gods and Monsters." Ian McKellen portrays James Whale, director of "Bride of Frankenstein." Whale was a dandy, an artist. He recalls working in a factory as a lad with true horror, and says it was as if his parents, upon receiving a giraffe instead of a mule, hitched it to a plow and set it to work in the fields, wondering always why it performed so poorly.
Until one year ago, I always felt like a giraffe hitched to a plow. Now I like being a giraffe. I don't know where I'm going today, but I have a pretty good idea about how I am going to get there.
Open Salon remains a remarkably supportive artistic community. I am clapping real hard now, and yelling myself purple, for you.
Take a bow.
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Comments
A big hug, and keep going. Happy Annibloggery!
Thank you.
The support is unequalled, and has pulled me off of the couch more times than I care to think of. It also has pulled me back onto the couch, to read and comment on many of the amazing writers and stories I find here, you are one of them.
Glad you are here, less than a year for me...but I hope I'll celebrate as eloquently as you have. Bravo Jimmy!
I'm proud to be amomg the lucky ones who discovered your talent early, and have followed you since. Please keep writing and we'll keep reading.
And now, can you cut the crap about not being a fine writer? You're a damn fine writer, and someday, if you keep at it, you'll be somewhere. Don't know where, because my future-glasses got smashed in my last tirade, but I bet it's somewhere good.
Now, go play with your blocks. Let your characters hash out their futures. And thank you for helping to make this a community that I'm oh so proud to be a part of.
Happy Anniversary!
Thank you for the beautiful narrative of these last few years. You’re engaging and really enjoyable to read. That’s a rarer gift than it should be. I think it takes heart and attentive creativity to come to the discoveries and conclusions that you have. Happy blogoversary and thank you for blessing the place as you have.
Rated and appreciated.
p.s. McKellen killed delivering that illustration. Your piece did too.
"Until one year ago, I always felt like a giraffe hitched to a plow. Now I like being a giraffe. I don't know where I'm going today, but I have a pretty good idea about how I am going to get there."
I have felt so much this way. You nail things down so perfectly.
You are a writer. You are a polished writer.
(What does being Polish have to do with being a writer, anyway?)
Will be back for more.
~R
So did the world of all who read you. Happy One Year pal!
Marcela--Writing helps me find my heart. I'm not much without it.
wakingupslowly--Much appreciated.
Buffy--I can't imagine not knowing all these people here. The place can become a couch, so to speak, because there are so many excellent stories every day. But these stories fire the mind and re-charge the spirit. It's rejuvinating.
Lea---So grateful. Any creature doing what it's supposed to be doing is a beautiful sight. I feel like I've been set free.
rita--Glad you enjoyed it. Thank you.
fingerslakewanderer--Deep breaths, baby. There now. Isn't that better? Now, regarding recovery. I've never seen fictionalized accounts that depict it as I've known it. So I try to involve it in much of my writing. What amazes me is its imperfection, the ups and downs, when perhaps we expect that if we do the work, we will be spared all this. Anyone involved knows this to be a dangerous expectation. It would be even more dangerous for anyone to believe that because they can write, they don't need to perform the hard work of helping those struggling to find what we have. In person. As to writing, I don't mean to disparage my ability. Just can't get over that I watched decades go by without doing this at all. And this brings us to another of the beauties of Open Salon. It's a perfect place to play, to experiment, to write without having to be perfect, to try different stuff.
Owl--Thank you. OS is a big place. I've noticed a couple of people who commented that first day aren't still around, or if they are, haven't posted in a while. People are going to come and go, but it continues to attract all sorts of cool, talented people, as your presence indicates, and is very healthy right now.
duaneart--Aw, shucks. Thank you.
Dennis--Attentive creativity. I like that. I wonder how many people watching "Gods and Monsters" were floored by that scene. It's not in any of the clips or trailers I looked through, but I thought it was the heart of the movie. For all the pain he encountered while dying, he had broken free of the plow young and done what he was made to do.
neilpaul--Particularly early in one's plunge into OS. I try to keep that in mind when reading and commenting. However good my story was, I think I was very lucky to get so much encouragement early on.
Thank you!!!
rated
mary--Can't do the rage thing anymore. Bad Karma. I take what I need and leave the rest.
FusunA--Wise words about the journey. Thank you.
spotted_mind--Thank you.
Chicago Guy--Too kind.
AtHomePilgrim--Thank you.
grif--The feeling is mutual. The cyber friendships are in many cases more meaningful than the flesh and blood types which have come and gone over the years.
Gwendolyn--How thoughtful of you to bring that up. I have helpfully indexed the "Shaving with Connie Francis" series in the left hand column. I know the chapters are out of order, but they're all there.
Below that is a collection called "My Best," which can save curious readers like yourself from scrolling through 65 posts. I just put stuff there that I think is very good. Out of that, I would recommend, "Gunshots in the Night," "Wasted," and, for a change of pace and perhaps the start of my children's collection, "Slobbering Salvation."
micalpiece--Thank you.
Chuck--I can't imagine any other reasons to stay. Do you want to run this operation? I don't. I just want to play.
But more than any of that we have become good friends, in that strange but very real cyber world way that is only possible on a place like OS. I enjoy your writing but I treasure your friendship. I will be here for you as long as these fingers of mine can find a keyboard and I know that the same comes back to me from you.
Bless you.
Monte
(your faithful ghost rater)
There is an honesty and insight in your work..
So happy you are such a valued member of this creative community. Happy Blogaversary!
You are a great person and a wonderful writer my dear.
Long live the 'wonks' on OS.
Long live OS
Long live OS
Love ya Jimmy. Keep on writing.
I'm just glad that you keep writing. And I'm glad to be here. Gratitude today for a world that's spinning a little too fast.
Miss Adams--Thank you.
susanmihalic--I never thought of writing as a "feeling," but now that you bring it up, yeah. Don't know anything quite like being zoned in on a piece.
WSFTC--That's my line!
Monte--They'll pry my keyboard out of my cold, dead hand, and I'll have 'em bury me with it. 'Ya never know. The nature of the relationships here is remarkable. Glad to call you a friend.
Lisa--One of the sublime pleasures of OS isn't just reading good writers, but watching people grow as writers. Nothing wrong with your posts a year ago, but your work is so strong and consistent now it's ridiculous. Being here is like being in a real good writing class that never ends.
Robin --(bowing.)
Gary--Sorry we missed you at the last meet. I try to stick to things I know well, and not publish until I feel I have it right. You should see the crap I throw out.
Just Cathy--You forgot handsome! Giraffes are handsome, aren't they?
I'll be back in a bit. Off to daughter 2's gymnastic meet. The season opener. Her senior year. Better bring kleenex.
Mission--Where else could we have possibly found each other? Thanks for such a lovely comment.
Stim--The feeling is mutual.
Hell's Bells--I watch the tube and listen to loud music, but I love the quiet that writing brings. I can't multi-task, it's always quiet when I write. The Mac hums a little, traffic shoooshes by outside, but I can hear myself breathe.
jane--Quite a sight, I suppose, if anyone saw me out there in the dark. But I like to walk through the old neighborhood, by The Loft, and let it come to me.
finger--It always spins too fast. That's why we have to find things that bring us peace. Sending you some of mine. All this love here has given me more than I know what to do with.
Mom--And handsome!
Karin--No one can possibly read everything worth reading around here on OS. But if you've got some time, check my response to Gwendolyn Glover above. And thank you.
"I had to write it to understand what it was like to do it."
What E.M. Forster explaining to someone the importance of writing:
"How can I know what I think till I see what I say?"
Not bad, echoing one of the giants of 20th century lit. I'm not sure what's the better, more telling description of the need to write and the thrill it can carry from writer to reader.
Cheers --
As for this: "his parents, upon receiving a giraffe instead of a mule, hitched it to a plow and set it to work in the fields, wondering always why it performed so poorly." I'm reminded of John Lennon's song Working Class Hero -- and of my own life -- tho I'm far less exotic a creature than a giraffe.
Kris--Can't wait to hear about your novel project. I've chickened out the last two years.
Jeremiah--It is a thrill, as you well know! Thank you.
Tom--But every bit as handsome.
Serenita Lake--Carry a pad and pen. It's like a butterfly net. We tend to be brilliant at inconvenient times. Catch those thoughts as they flit through the mind. You can make sense of them later, but not if they get away.
Dr. Susanne--Humbled. Thank you.
O'Really--Why hide it?
I've been so absorbed in my mini-meltdown lately that I've only been partly present here on OS. Guess that explains how I have managed to miss making my way over here to check out your incredible talent. Glad I finally pulled my head out and found my way here.
Excuse me now, while I go check out some of your other writings. **walks off rubbing hands together with anticipation**
Rated.
I think this is the true essence of writing. My anniversary passed in October, and like you, I'd really never written anything before getting sucked into OS by political curiosity. I was even afraid to comment at first. The place was so foreign to me.
There really is something magical about this place when it comes to bringing out the best in writers.
Happy Annibloggery, JM!
I am delighted to celebrate your blogiversary, Jimmy: the privilege it's been to be your reader, the honour it's been to be your OS friend, the blessing it's been to share this platform with you.