The Long Good-Bye
Life is really a long series of good-byes. As I wrote in Spanish Disco, people leave. One way or the other, they leave. They die or they move away or they leave you, or you do the same. If you live your life well, you will love people so intensely, with such devotion and passion and without holding back, so that when they leave, you will grieve. So to me, life is a series of bursts of tremendous joy, tempered with the moments of good-bye. If you are very lucky, the good-byes don't happen often, or they are more bittersweet than mournful.
Last night, my daughter got home around 1:00 a.m. after two solid days of violin from 8:00 a.m. until, like last night, midnight. She proudly displayed her "violin hicky"--the mark on her neck where the violin rests. She never gets them too bad, but after this weekend of non-stop violin, she had one dark red mark--a sign of LOTS of playing. I went into her room and flopped on her bed, and we talked for about 40 minutes. There are lots of "lasts" about this last year before college. Last year she'll have this bedroom (younger sister gets it--and she says she's carrying a sign for graduation, which she'll raise as sister walks across the stage: CONGRATS! NOW I GET YOUR ROOM!"). Last year she'll be in the family Christmas picture unless we Photoshop her in. You get the idea.
And last night, I said, "I'll really miss you." I want her to know that, to REALLY know that. And if truth be told I will. The other half of me will be kicking her out the door--she's really messy and always is moving at the speed of sound, and is a pain about what she wants from the grocery store, and I look at her and she costs me money (yesterday, she called to say her bow needs rehairing and she wants to put on a gold E-string--kaching!). So I'm ready for her to go, SHE'S ready to go and live a life of adventures, but we have this whole year to have moments like last night, and say the long good-bye. To process how life is changing. For me, to grieve a little bit and to rejoice at how far she's come as a person already on this journey.
Which got me thinking about writing. I, like many people, have been watching J.K. Rowling make post-Potter statements about what happened to this character or that. And I know she also wrote and hand-illustrated a fairytale from her Potter world that will be auctioned off for charity. And she has made no secret of the fact, that after ten years of writing, it's all a process of saying good-bye to that world and those characters and it has been difficult.
I know for me, when I start a book, I am so full of Shiny New Idea Syndrome that I can't imagine the end. And in about 25% of my books, by the end, I've been so put through the grinder by the difficult middle section, or by tying up the loose ends at the conclusion, that I am ready to write "The End" (or, actually, as you do in publishing, type: ###). But most of the time, once I hit about page 200, I get this sinking feeling, like, "It's the start of the long good-bye." I know I will have to say good-bye to the characters and their lives. Working on my new trilogy, my pub schedule will run through at least--you sitting down?--2011. Even writing that number feels strangely futuristic for me. But because the world is so involved (it's fantasy), I am already more invested in the characters and the world than anything I have ever written before. I already get weepy over certain parts, already ache for this one or that one and their looming losses, already sigh a little as I know what genuine happiness awaits another. I can't imagine saying good-bye to them, but the writing process will be that . . . a long goodbye.
There are moments--just brief moments here or there--when I think of Tom from The Roofer. I wish he could have had a different story arc, but he couldn't have . . . and saying good-bye to him was hard. So much so that he pops into my head, almost like a real person. I'll wonder how he's doing, just for a second, before I realize he isn't real and he's doing exactly how I left him in Hell's Kitchen. Suspended animation. He and I seem to have a very, very long good-bye. It's still not quite over. Maybe, like the very best of relationships with those you love, it will never be over. Because that's the other part of a life lived well . . . you love so passionately that even after the good-bye you are left with the relics of love in your life.
Thoughts? Are there some good-byes with your characters that are harder than others? With people?
Last night, my daughter got home around 1:00 a.m. after two solid days of violin from 8:00 a.m. until, like last night, midnight. She proudly displayed her "violin hicky"--the mark on her neck where the violin rests. She never gets them too bad, but after this weekend of non-stop violin, she had one dark red mark--a sign of LOTS of playing. I went into her room and flopped on her bed, and we talked for about 40 minutes. There are lots of "lasts" about this last year before college. Last year she'll have this bedroom (younger sister gets it--and she says she's carrying a sign for graduation, which she'll raise as sister walks across the stage: CONGRATS! NOW I GET YOUR ROOM!"). Last year she'll be in the family Christmas picture unless we Photoshop her in. You get the idea.
And last night, I said, "I'll really miss you." I want her to know that, to REALLY know that. And if truth be told I will. The other half of me will be kicking her out the door--she's really messy and always is moving at the speed of sound, and is a pain about what she wants from the grocery store, and I look at her and she costs me money (yesterday, she called to say her bow needs rehairing and she wants to put on a gold E-string--kaching!). So I'm ready for her to go, SHE'S ready to go and live a life of adventures, but we have this whole year to have moments like last night, and say the long good-bye. To process how life is changing. For me, to grieve a little bit and to rejoice at how far she's come as a person already on this journey.
Which got me thinking about writing. I, like many people, have been watching J.K. Rowling make post-Potter statements about what happened to this character or that. And I know she also wrote and hand-illustrated a fairytale from her Potter world that will be auctioned off for charity. And she has made no secret of the fact, that after ten years of writing, it's all a process of saying good-bye to that world and those characters and it has been difficult.
I know for me, when I start a book, I am so full of Shiny New Idea Syndrome that I can't imagine the end. And in about 25% of my books, by the end, I've been so put through the grinder by the difficult middle section, or by tying up the loose ends at the conclusion, that I am ready to write "The End" (or, actually, as you do in publishing, type: ###). But most of the time, once I hit about page 200, I get this sinking feeling, like, "It's the start of the long good-bye." I know I will have to say good-bye to the characters and their lives. Working on my new trilogy, my pub schedule will run through at least--you sitting down?--2011. Even writing that number feels strangely futuristic for me. But because the world is so involved (it's fantasy), I am already more invested in the characters and the world than anything I have ever written before. I already get weepy over certain parts, already ache for this one or that one and their looming losses, already sigh a little as I know what genuine happiness awaits another. I can't imagine saying good-bye to them, but the writing process will be that . . . a long goodbye.
There are moments--just brief moments here or there--when I think of Tom from The Roofer. I wish he could have had a different story arc, but he couldn't have . . . and saying good-bye to him was hard. So much so that he pops into my head, almost like a real person. I'll wonder how he's doing, just for a second, before I realize he isn't real and he's doing exactly how I left him in Hell's Kitchen. Suspended animation. He and I seem to have a very, very long good-bye. It's still not quite over. Maybe, like the very best of relationships with those you love, it will never be over. Because that's the other part of a life lived well . . . you love so passionately that even after the good-bye you are left with the relics of love in your life.
Thoughts? Are there some good-byes with your characters that are harder than others? With people?
Labels: good-byes
posted by Erica Orloff at 6:52 AM
8 Comments:
My daughter turns twelve next month. I know a long goodbye confronts us, but I can't begin to face it.
A friend who went through this told me, "the teen years make it easy to say goodbye."
Horseshit.
There are so many stories I want to do again, you know? I want to go through the experience again (although I have no particular interest in re-writing or revising them, LOL), or write another story about so and so.
When I do sequels, I sometimes have a leftover attraction for the last hero, which means accidental sparks happen between current heroine and hero from last story.
I often wish he could be single again so I can hook him up with another vicarious character. :-) I've written two books since one of my heroes, and I STILL have a crush on him.
Erica, when my oldest left the nest I remember leaning against the door, after waving goodbye, knowing my life would never be the same. It was change, and it hurt. I'm happy to report we now live 30 minutes away, talk daily, and hang out a lot. LOL. Reading your blog, I realize I've said many goodbyes. Some temporary, some permanent as in they're no longer in this world. The characters in my stories will always be a part of me in a cool way. I can think of them, how we parted, and imagine how they're getting along. And yes, they're real to me. hehe. I have sequels in mind for a few of them, and know I'll love visiting old friends.
Hi Stephen:
Well, being completely honest, there are times in the teen years when your friend is right, but hopefully, you come out the other side, with them 17 or 18 and then it's hard again. Believe me, too, I never thought I would be sad . . . I thought I would be relieved, because sometimes it was really, really, REALLY hard. But I am very sad--but ready to watch her leave the nest just so she can live her own life and journey--what an exciting time to be a person . . . ready to fly the coop.
spy:
LOL! Leftover attraction. I love that idea. And I can definitely see how I could do a sequel to one or two of my books. I would love to do a sequel to KNOCKOUT. Sovo was my favorite hero and I most definitely am a little in love with him.
E
ladonna:
If you ever told me my parents would come stay with me for a MONTH at a time and not be reading about my committing murder on the front page of the newspaper, I would have said youw ere crazy--when I was 18. But now, I love having them here. :-) I talk to my mom twice a day sometimes when we're apart--and not short conversations, either. Sometimes an hour or an hour and a half at a time. She's one of my best and most treasured friends.
Yes, my characters remain in me in some ways. Just as I think my grandparents will always be part of me.
Erica, my sister died too young, and that was the hardest goodbye I've said. When my son left for his own place, it seemed the right thing to do. I have relatives whose kids don't leave until their thirties, so I was glad mine was striking out on his own.
I usually have a new book in mind that I'm excited about, but I noticed on this last book I forced myself to keep up the pace. My inclination was to slow down and savor these characters.
Hi Edie:
There is, I think, a natural order of things. Our children should not die before us; our kids should leave the nest. Good-byes when it's too soon or not the natural order are the worst, I think.
As for savoring characters . . . I think that's such a good sign that you as the writer have done a good job. Somehow, deep inside, you know you nailed it.
E
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