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
