American Pie

It was hard getting myself going tonight. After a quarter of my beer, a little bit of pasta and a short conversation with a friend, I fell asleep. I woke up around 7:30 feeling not so great and wondering if I should just lay back down. But, like I’ve said before, I’ve promised myself and so many other people that I am going to finish this novel so I have to work on it everyday until it is done.

It did not come easy. I turned on the hockey game-Flyers and Caps, opened up my computer and started the usual. First I checked email, hung around on Facebook for a moment and put on some music. The song that has always helped me write is American Pie by Don Mclean so I put that on repeat. Maybe it is because it is so long or because it reminds me of my mother or because it is about a time that has come and gone. I don’t know, sounds weird but that is my writing prompt. Another weirdism is that I play the song over and over and over again. As I fiddle around on the computer and try to get myself going American Pie plays in the background.

After about half an hour I posted something on Facebook. At the end of the post I wrote the first line to American Pie. I thought that line in particular might help me because I am trying to write about Gabrielle’s childhood. A long, long time ago…….After I posted that I was starting to get frustrated. I made a phone call, tried to concentrate on the game, made some tea and shuffled through some papers. I checked Facebook again and saw that my friends were filling in the rest of the first verse of American Pie. That was when things started to click.

I am writing a novel. It may not be your standard conventional novel. It has parts that are obscure or out of the ordinary but if I include common scenes that could come from any life, people will get it. I remember reading the Kite Runner and thinking, this is what it was like for me growing up. How can that be? Simple. The experiences we have, the emotions we feel are just recycled from person to person. You might think that someone is different than you because of their skin or their religion or where they grew up but take a listen. Ignore the wrapper that the person comes in and really listen. I suspect that you will hear your own words. They may be articulated in a much different way but they will pinpoint your feelings.

As adults many of us look back on childhood and pinpoint the itty bitty mistakes that our parents and care givers made. We are so quick to remember the bad even if the bad times were far and few in-between. My childhood was idyllic for the most part. The parts that were not so good well, I think I can chalk up to-my parents did the best they could with what they knew then. This brings me back to Lives Lived. So far, the childhood of Gabrielle Smith is lopsided. The days are dark and she is utterly alone. It is almost as if she is living in this void and her only contact with the outside world through observation. What about the good? There is always something good. If you ask me on most days, the good far outweighs they bad. So, what was good about my childhood?

Finally I began to type different things into search engines about Detroit and my old school. Found out that my old principal, Sister Marie Sweeney passed away August 9, 2009. I guess that was what really got me going. She was my principal from 1rst-8^th grade. As I read her obituary and looked at her photo I remembered report card day first quarter of sixth grade when she grabbed my face in one hand and just about broke my jaw as she said “Young lady, shape up or ship out!” I also remember her being there when I purposely stapled my hand several times in fourth grade. I can vividly recall her worried look and gentle hands pulling the staples out before bandaging the wound. Sure, I felt misunderstood, mistreated, angry, resentful and I blamed the adults in my life for most of the negative things that happened in my life but they were there for me when I needed them. That was what it was like being a kid. Being loved and cared for even when I was being anything but good. Childhood is that precious time when you have no control over what happens to you. So many kids don’t have even one person that cares about them I had scores of caregivers.

Gabrielle Smith was created at a time in my life when there were a lot of bad things going on. I was frantic, fickle, frightened and living on the edge of everything. Life was careless and negative and every couple of weeks I would give up on Gabrielle and Lives Lived and writing in general. Back then I was forcing words onto the page with anger and hate. I was writing to get out of the job I hated. I was writing because everyone thought being a writer was something that I could never do. I was writing because I was not sure what else to do. Well, today, now, I write for the only reason that anyone should ever write. I write because I love it more than anything else. Things created in love grow and thrive.