Finished with several normal house elf activities; such as washing bedsheets, dusting the furniture and the folding of clothes, I am eager to be out and about the big city, so I will dispense with the details of home life here in England, although I am still thrilled to hang dry my clothes using the heat from the heated floors. Clothes hung on the bathroom towel bars did the job just fine, since the European washer/dryer unit in our flat could fit quite nicely in a child's playhouse and is terribly slow to dry adult size clothing. I've created a whole walk in drying room. Well, enough of that.
I have also, finally completed my middle grade manuscript, one I've been scribbling away on for several years. This completion carries a multitude of emotions for me, and the tedious editing and re-editing of the stories, was for me an act similar to when a woman selects her jewelry for a special occasion. Choosing a pair of earrings belonging to one's mother could set off one's attire just so, and instill a certain confidence, a necklace given by a kind sister or friend, could increase one's smile, or perhaps a bold and colorful scarf, borrowed from a daughter's closet, might add layers of meaning, depth and mystery. Well, these are my silly thoughts of course, and this strange, writing process works for me.
Now, unlike a celebratory evening out, the completion of my manuscript, although satisfying, was quiet and draining all at once. No one may ever read it and I may lack the talent to be published, but that fact doesn't bother me in the least. What terrifies me more is the fact that it could be published. Not losing sleep with that idea so onto what's important.
My middle-grade level story is a creative act of remembrance tied with a ribbon of thankfulness. From my earliest childhood and onward, many women, whether they knew it or not, encouraged and motivated me to be more, seek more and realize more. Women, whose only fame, were their acts of kindness, hard work, pluck, and giving natures, managed to help me become a fairly decent human being. There have also been wonderful male role models in my childhood, and the personalities of these men are woven into various adult characters. Even the children I grew up with, in and around my old neighborhood, have taught me many things, some good and some not so good, yet I have attempted to acknowledge many persons in my own small way through my stories.
Now, that I am abroad and so far from my smallish, hometown in California, I will attempt not to squander the moments I have to absorb the uniqueness that is England and to write. Write I will because one small collection of tales was not nearly a fitting thank-you for the people who lived in and around on my neighborhood, school and street!
Train schedules are not to be ignored so, I am off to London, umbrella in hand to check out a few places into London, meet a particularly cool nephew from Hawaii and to end the evening with a fine Indian meal in the East End.
