The Story of Me
I just finished the first draft of the ‘new and improved’ version of my very first manuscript, Some Day Somebody. This is the story I wrote about me…or the new me…the one with a degree, a new career, the courage to walk away from a bad marriage, and the self confidence to find the love of my life. I never intended it for publishing because it was my life. So much so, that once I finished, my daughters refused to read it because of its personal nature. After completing it, I immediately began a second manuscript, my head filled with ideas and characters. I used the two original characters and created new ones – coworkers and family friends from the original heroine’s hometown, a fictional town of Gardiner, taken from a real person, old Doc Gardiner. Doc Gardiner delivered so many babies in my hometown of Gueydan that they had a Doc Gardiner Day for him one year, with a parade and everything. He delivered me and all my siblings, as well as both my parents.
Okay, so I finished the second book, then began a third, using secondary characters from the previous book, then a fourth, and even a fifth. About halfway through the fifth book, something began to eat at me. The first story, Sam and Carrie’s story (I’ve changed all names to protect the innocent – and the guilty) never left me. It kept insisting that it needed to be told. After all, Carrie is the cornerstone of the five books – she’s the hub. Every character in my books either knows her or knows someone who does.
I jumped back on it, changed or removed the personal nature so that my daughters can read it and still face me afterwards, and added some drama and suspense to make it much more interesting. I revamped the story, in some ways telling it as I wish it had happened instead of as it did happen. I made Carrie wiser, less prone to losing her temper than I am, and infinitely more patient than I was at thirty-five years old when it all came about. I can almost see my daughters rolling their eyes at the nearer to perfect version of myself.
Seeing my life laid out in black print on a white page, I’ve come to accept something about myself. Doc Gardiner and my mom may have birthed me back in October of 1958, but ultimately, God and I are responsible for my re-birth back in December of 1993. In writing this story, I’ve come to realize that God presented the opportunities for me, but he also gave me the courage to step up and accept each and every one of them. Once I accepted the challenge, He closed doors and opened windows, essentially herding me to the destination He’d chosen for me. This time, instead of fighting Him and choosing my own path, I followed His lead and ended up exactly where I should be.
Catch ya’ll later,