Part Three: Genesis of a short story – The Look

Writing

Part Three: Genesis of a short story – The Look

On a Wednesday in August, I went up to a recreation centre and celebrated my mother's 82^nd birthday along with a number of her friends all between the ages of 65-92. I brought my camera along taking pictures and catching these women, because I'm a fast clicker, relaxing, smiling and laughing. However, they were not unguarded. The pictures turned out pretty good, but they didn't correspond to the stories of their lives that I came to know that afternoon and from what my mother has told me. I'm observer, but not a photographer.

I don't have the knack for catching -- the moment. Now, the blog, NO CAPTION NEEDED catches moments all the time. So, even if I had a camera on the night I had dinner with B and was lucky enough to snap a picture when she gave me the look it wouldn't have been The Look full of compassion, tenderness and pride. Nor, if I had a camera at the movie theatre, I don't think my picture would have caught the guileless of the woman lurching from one poster to another touching each one with the tips of her fingers.

I knew there was a story going on, but how to put the disparate parts together.

Final day

Friday was a perfect Fall day and we had a lovely brisk 10K walk around Elk/Beaver Lake Regional Park yesterday. Okay, the last 2k was painful with my bunged up knee and ganglion on my left food, but I was able to enjoy, for the most part, the colours of the leaves, the warmth of the sun and the sparkling lake. Spent the rest of the day poking around Sydney and down town Victoria finally coming back to our home while we're away from home and read a great deal of Kathleen Norris' Accedia & me. First thoughts: 1) Desert Fathers make for some interesting reading 2) So far much of what Norris writes resonates, but too much emphasis on sin for my taste 3) To lead a mindful life is a time consuming energy consuming task 4) As usual, Norris' prose is graceful to read and I slip into the book never wanting to leave 5) I'm going to have to give this book a lot of thought.

Today the Toast Cafe was closed so we tried Alexander's Coffee Co which was okay. After an hour or so walk we took a drive out to Sooke where we stopped at the Reading Room Bookstore (used books) where I found A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith forward by Anna Quindlen. I've been unable to find this title in any of the used bookshops for the last week, so quite a find. More walking.

Tonight we're going to visit to Blighty's Bistro .

After a week of walking, reading, eating and more walking (really, I should be thinner) I'm ready to go home and do something about the messy condo. Tomorrow, once we get back, the day is going to one of cleaning and this means pulling out the stove (frightening) and fridge not to mention shelving books. I can't forget the bathroom and Joe will be vacuuming and dusting.

My writing group meets in a couple of weeks and I haven't looked at my new story (blogged, but didn't work on any storied this week), The Look, in a couple of weeks. Yup, I know what I'll be doing Monday. I'm in a planning mood so it's back to the gym and I'll start meditating, again. Sometimes life gets bit crazy and I'm stymied by the fact that there's so much I want to do.

The Fall for me is a time of new beginnings.

... more vacationing, books and food

More of the same and loving every minute

Woke to a blue sky and a blazing orange orb in the sky reflecting brilliantly off the sea. It's a crisp, no a cool morning and I rush Joe so we can get the day going. We walk to the Toast Cafe where I have a blueberry oatmeal muffin this morning with my Americano misto while reading The Frozen Thames by Helen Humphreys.

“Where to now now?” says Joe after I drain the last of my coffee. “Let's go to the wharf and make a left rather than a right at the corner.” Such is the behavour of a vacationing couple with no particular place to be and in no hurry to get there. On our way to no place in particular we nod or say hello to most everyone we met and soak up what little warmth there is left of the sun. A friendly bunch the people of Sidney. Yes it's a town full of retirees, but we pass number of baby strollers pushed by young mothers and even the occasional father.

“And now?” says Joe.

“And now, let's go to Beacon Hill Park.”

Another walk by the ocean and a neighbourhood we've not seen before with some very beautiful houses and gardens. We stop and chat to a woman hauling seaweed in plastic bags in a wheelbarrow. “Nothing better for the garden,” she claims. I'm amazed at the number of NDP signs adorning the front yards of some homes. Maybe they saw the interview last night between Peter Mansbridge and Stephen Harper.

“It's 1:30 and I've got to eat,” says Joe.

“Let's try Kadalim's Bakery & Cafe in Oak Bay.”

Great sandwiches, soups and treats.

More walking to burn off the calories and a couple bookstores to visit. At Grafton Book Shop: Secondhand and Antiquarian Books, I picked up a used copy of The Bell Jar with a forward by Frances McCullough. Every time I hit a second hand shop I look for the Sylvia Plath novel only to be disappointed. Most book shop folks tell me it's a title that rarely sticks around and here it was laying cover up on a stool.

I was going to leave the shop when I spied Albion's Story by Kate Grenville. The Idea of Perfection is one of the few books I've read numerous times and, like Helen Humphreys' books, I slip into Grenville's with ease and never want them to end, although this looks to be a hard book to read. Heck, I'm up for the challenge.

Before heading home, we stopped in at Ivy's Bookshop and Acedia & me: A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer's Life almost jumped off the shelf into my hands. I read The Cloister Walk in my 30's and pick it up every time life gets feeling a little too heavy. Along with Henri Nouwen books (I haven't read them all), The Cloister Walk never fails to calm me when the black sometimes is blacker than usual.

With sore feet and a back pack full of books plus a few other goodies we head back to the place we're calling home for a week. Again, no plans to do anything at all this evening except write this post and read. Yes, I'll go out for a bite to eat later (much later) with perhaps a short walk but no movie or pub or anything else.

Vacation - walks, food, books

Book Buying

Russell Books in the morning after a couple of very thick slices of toast topped with peanut butter and strawberry jam and a Americano Misto at Toast Cafe in Sidney. Naturally after such a carb fest we went for a walk with the wind blowing and the sun shining.

Russell Books

The Portable Dorothy Parker with an introductory tribute by W. Somerset Maugham

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

G. by John Berger (I'm reading From A-X: A Story in Letters)

On a whim, The Ravenous Muse: A Table of Dark and Comic Contents, a Bacchanal of Books

I've had my eye on Arthur & George by Julian Barnes for quite some time and the $9.99 was too good to pass up. I love the cover which is not the one linked to the title here (I admit I buy books based on their covers and wines on their labels).

The Gargoyle: A Novel by Andrew Davidson. The owner of Russell Books was shelving and said that Davidson a teacher from Winnipeg spent seven years researching for this his first novel and received a two million dollar advanced for his first book.

Hard work buying books, so off we went to Rebar modern food and had a spot of lunch. With time on our hands, we went to Munro's Books where I bought ONE book, The Frozen Thames by Helen Humphreys. Anything that Humphreys writes I'll read and how could I say no to the following opening.

The year is 1142

“Matilda is under siege. For more than three months now she's been barricaded inside this castle in Oxford while her cousin, Stephen, circles the ramparts with his men, waits for slow starvation to force her out and into his capture.

They have eaten all the horses and burnt all the furniture. They have retreated through pockets of cold, to a small room without windows at the base of the tower. At night they huddle together like dogs

Matilda is Queen of England, but her cousin has stolen the Crown, and now she is locked into battle with him. She has been locked into battle with him for almost seven years.”.

For another book fiend, I was looking for Ha'penny by Jo Walton, but didn't have any luck, yet.

I'm sitting in a wonder room listening to Richard Terfry on Radio Two while composing this blog post and having a glass of wine. So far it's a wonderful vacation – good weather, lots of walking and books.

Christopher Isherwood

My first Christopher Isherwood

My first Christopher Isherwood, A Meeting By The River written in 1967 is a story of two brothers Oliver and Patrick in letters. Oliver, about to take his final vows as a Hindu Swami, writes to his older brother Christopher, an LA movie producer in the hopes the older sibling will break the news to their Mother. A story of brothers full of tension, rivalry, jealousy, deceit, bisexuality and duty.

I found it difficult to find reviews of A Meeting By The River and the few, I did, were luke warm at best. Patrick, the elder brother, was called hypocritical because he didn't turn his back on his marriage and children for a sexual tryst with Tom a Californian boy toy. I wouldn't call him hypocritical, it was 1967 and the sexual mores were not of 2008.

Isherwood's book is about duty: Patrick's to his mother, brother, wife, children and finally himself. Oliver's duty to his late Swami, his present Mahanta Maharaj, his new found spirituality and ultimately himself. I thought Isherwood did a great job of presenting a realistic picture of an adult finally reaching a hard fought point in his spirituality quest only to find himself reduced to the actions of spoiled adolescent. Almost anyone with a sibling can attest to, in normal life, being a mature individual, but be confronted by a sibling suddenly you are a thirteen year old ruled by run away hormones. Logic is no longer in your lexicon.

I will be looking for Isherwood's best known book, A Single Man as well as the biography .Good thing I'm making a visit to Russell Books in Victoria and all the used book shops in Sidney.

http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/isherwoo.htm

Part Two: Genesis of a short story - The Look

Part Two: The Woman and her purple back pack

An answer to the question, where do you your story ideas come from.

Movie night. I'm in a bit of a rush and brush past a stocky middle aged woman wearing very large round glasses circa 1980 in a beige raincoat and clutching a purple back pack. The film, Tell No One, is about to start and she's examining the movie posters tacked on the wall with great care seemingly oblivious to everything around her. I find my saved seat and watch for the woman and the purple back pack. The lights dim and she comes down the aisle her actions are slow and deliberate as if looking for the perfect seat. The lights go down and she finds a sit in the fourth row with her pack pack now on her lap.

Waiting for a few of my friends finish in the bathroom, I notice the woman now with her back pack cinched tight looking at the posters with the same determined scrutiny, but now includes the condiment table in her repertoire. Curious.

Genesis of a short story - The Look

It started one evening....

Haven't seen B for three months, so I give her a call and suggest dinner. B's life is full and varied and I'm always surprised when she has time for a dinner which lasts for at least three hours. Tonight, however, I come to the cafe feeling she's looking forward to this time together as much as I am. B walks past the window of the restaurant. I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye and she's as slim as striking as ever. An evening with this woman promises to be one of engaging conversation, laughs and more conversation. No, it's more than that, the time I spend with B is food for my soul and I always leave feeling centred,whole, satisfied and warm.

We are discussing Reiki which B has been involved in for years and I, upon her suggestion, have recently delved into. We are seekers B and I trying, each in our own way, to be more aware of ourselves and the world around us. My elbows are on the table and I'm leaning forward talking in earnest, of course. I look up and B's gaze meets mine. I'm completely taken aback. She is sitting back in her chair arms folded with such a look of tenderness, compassion and gentle pride that I'm held speechless.

B is a nice looking woman in her early 50's, but at this moment she is ageless . The look transforms her face. Her brown eyes moisten and a slight smile forms. Her gaze still holds mine. To translate the look, it's as if her arms wrap around me in appreciation of me as an individual and our friendship.

You see while B is my friend she is also my teacher. Oriah Mountain Dreamer author of The Invitation wrote, "I want to know if you can disappoint another / to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal / and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless / and therefore trustworthy. " This B can do which is no small feat and such a strength of character.

B shows me it's possible to be different but with feet firmly planted on the ground. Without knowing it,she has introduced me to non-duality. In my own going quest for meaning, B has helped me in more ways than she'll ever know. As I sit here my heart is full and for the first time in our friendship I think hers is too. Tonight we meet as equals and I understand this is what causes B's look.

As days and weeks pass, I begin to think of it as The Look. I want to write about The Look and what it means to me, but my words are clumsy and sounds so banal. I think of other looks that transformed the giver and myself. I have a list, now what.

Next: part two of The Look Genesis of a Short Story.