In November of 2018 I wrote like a mad woman for National Novel Writing Month. I wrote more than 50 thousand words and was exhausted creatively when the month was over. I knew it wouldn’t take long to recharge my batteries though. Once the winter holidays were over, I’d get right back into it.
The best laid plans..
Shortly before Christmas, the Pacific Northwest was hit with a wind storm that knocked down a portion of our backyard fence. This was the second year in a row we had a section go down. While we were making repairs, we turned on the outside hose bib to mix some cement for the new posts. Ten minutes later, we discovered our kitchen had been completely flooded; our hardwood floors ruined! I had neglected to remove the hose from the bib prior to the first winter freeze and a crack had developed downstream of the isolation valve but inside the kitchen wall. Calls were made and a claim was filed with the insurance but little could be done until the New Year.
On New Year’s Day my husband and I were cleaning up dinner when my phone rang. It was my aunt and she was hysterical. My brother Eric was found dead in his basement apartment. He was only four years older than me. We raced to the place he was living and were greeted with blue flashing police lights. I was the first on scene but the rest of my family soon arrived. Shock and grief ripped through all of us as we tried to sort out what had happened, who had talked to him last, and what had possibly been the cause of his death.
The next day was my birthday and the day a crew came to my house to tear up our damaged kitchen floor. My family once again gathered and we went through what little my brother had. He was the definition of minimalist. What few possessions he had were brought to my house where they would sit in our garage until we were ready to fully process what to do with them. That evening we gathered in my living room and sat as fans droned on drying out my damaged floor.
My writing skills were put to use when it came time for the eulogy. How could I possibly find the words that matched the giant of a man my brother was? How could I, the sister who knew him least, capture his life in a short speech? Somehow I found the words and I hope I did Eric proud.
I didn’t feel much like writing anything after that. A snow storm in February shut almost everything down in the Northwest. My flooring material was stuck somewhere unable to be delivered and repairs were delayed.
In March my youngest nephew went in for open heart surgery; the last in a three stage reconstruction. I was one of two people who would tag team his 24/7 care while he remained in patient at Seattle Children’s Hospital. Six weeks would pass before he would get to go home. Somehow during that time, our floors were finally replaced.
I still didn’t feel much like writing. So much had happened and life just wouldn’t return to normal. Things did settle down in April and May gave us a chance to breathe again. After two long camping trips, I feel that perhaps now, I am recharged enough to find my voice and once again write.
End Transmission.
To achieve victory during National Novel Writing Month, a writer must write 50 thousand words of a story within the month of November. I’ll be honest, I was sure I could get it done with time to spare. After all, I was prepared and churning out only 50k at less than 1700 words a day seemed like a piece of cake.