Stone Tower

Standing at the Edge

I'm standing at the edge now. One step and it begins. Am I ready? Have I prepared all that I can? Am I good enough? The road will be different this time. The world will be new. But I've done this once before, and in a way, I know what lies before me.

I see a valley, beyond that mountains, rivers, an ocean. I see a cast of characters clamoring for my attention, waiting for me to breath life into them. I see an oppressed people waiting for their champion. I see that champion lost and alone. I see an evil man and understand him. I see a world desperately waiting for the story I am about to tell.

It is terrifying and exciting all at the same time. I doubt myself, and I waste weeks that turn to months standing on this edge. The world is frozen, the people stagnant. They look up to me, begging me to take that first step. I plan and map my route again and again, but I know these are just excuses now.

I know where I want to go; I've known for a long time. I know the road I wish to walk through the wilderness before me. I know where I plan to end up and what the world will look like when I get there. But I also know that once I take that step this world will cease to be in my control.

Once I step off this edge, I'll be just a part of this world. A major part, of course, but a part just the same. The characters and beings I've breathed life into will each take control in his or her own way. I'll struggle along with them. Not to fight them, but to stay with them. To furiously follow them as they weave in and out of the safe, logical road I have planned out for them.

They will surprise me, and events I never planned will sadden me. I'll grow to love people I never imagined caring about and discover flaws in those I imagined perfect. And I'll gladly follow as they stray from my carefully planned path, cheering them on as I franticly record their every thought and emotion. This world I see before me will become alive. All this once I take that first step.

Still, I fear. Those nagging questions. Am I ready? Have I prepared all that I can? Am I good enough? This world is counting on me to bring it to life, and it can't afford for me to fail.

Behind me I can still see the world I've just left behind. Two years I spent there, learning and watching. It looks so different now than I originally imagined it. It's bigger, darker. I've armed myself with everything I learned there to prepare for this next journey. I'm ready to be better than I have ever been. Will I be?

I hear them calling. They are anxious to start, and I have stood here too long. I let the excitement and anticipation build up inside me. The time for doubts and excuses is over.

The world starts as a blank page, but only for a moment.

I step from the edge...

Two Different Worlds

After I got home from work last night, Kim and I were hanging out with our daughter in the living room, just enjoying that it's-the-start-of-another-fun-weekend glow that seems to fill the house on Friday evenings.

"Hey Erin," I said, "do you know what weekend this is?"

She thought about it for a few seconds, happy excitement filling her face.

"Is it your birthday?" she asked, jumping up and running over to me.

"No, that would be nice, but we have to wait until the winter for that."

"Oh," she replied with a disappointed shrug. I was quick to lift her spirits again.

"This weekend is Batman weekend!"

"You love Batman!"

"I know!"

"Let's ask Mommy if we can go," she said, turing hopefully to Kim.

"Well, we don't have to 'ask' Mommy for permission," I said. "Daddies can make plans too you know."

My voice just trailed off as Erin fixed with me an impatient look.

"We can go," Kim said, giving me a reassuring smile. "Let me just look up to see if they have it at the drive-in tomorrow."

Erin and I started to plan our menu of snacks to load up the car with as Kim fired up the Macbook.

"We'll need to get Batman peanut butter cups for sure," I said.

"Do they have Batman M&M's?"

"Well, maybe we can get some regular M&M's and just pretend?"

"Yeah!" Erin replied, nodding happily.

"Oh no!" Kim said, pulling our attention away from our critical movie snack discussion. "Batman isn't showing at the drive-in tomorrow."

"What? That's impossible. It's the biggest movie of the summer. How could the drive-in not have it on opening night?"

"I don't know," she said. "They just have some horror movie playing. Weird."

"A horror movie? I haven't heard of anything opening--"

"Yeah," she said, "something called 'The Dark [K]night.'"

I love my wife dearly--and after nine years still easily count her as my best friend--but every so often I am reminded that we come from two very, very different worlds.

Checking in on the Cat...

The summer I first met my wife--way back in the late nineties, kids--I lived in a small apartment in Newport, RI.  It was a nice place, and over our first few months together Kim (enjoying her first summer off as a new teacher) spent as much time as possible at my place.  Even if I had to work most of the time, she persevered on her own using my beach pass and other island resident perks I'd picked up (and never used) to pass the time.  She was a trooper.

Then, fall came.  Kim's school was better than a two hour drive from my apartment, so spending the night down my way became impossible.  Since we'd moved way passed the "see each other once or twice a week" phase, this meant I was now spending most of my nights at her place.  After about a month or so, "most nights" pretty much turned into "every night."

At one point (in early October 1999), I stopped by my apartment over my lunch break because I realized I hadn't stopped by to feed the cat in a little over a week.  As I stood there in my cold apartment, with an angry cat staring up at me from a trough of Meow Mix, it really no longer felt like my home.  Even though I was still paying rent, I'd pretty much moved in with Kim.  And while echoes of all the parties, late night video game sessions with my friends, and a summer of mostly naked frolicking (not with my friends) still filled the place, something inside me understood I had moved on.  

A couple weeks later, I broke my lease and the cat and I officially moved up to Woonsocket where the rent was half the price and no one had to go a week without being fed.  It was one of many smart decisions I made during that time.

As I stopped by to dust the cobwebs off my blog this morning, I was struck with that same feeling I had that day in my old apartment.  In March, I basically turned down the heat, locked all the doors, and never stopped back.  It was a conscious decision.  Writing the last two thirds of my second novel just needed to take priority in my life.  I've spent the last couple months finishing my book (which is what this was all supposed to be about in the first place), and following that I started a new job.  I've been writing a ton while I've been away, but just not here.  

So, here I am, back and facing an angry cat.  As before, the place is sort of cold and empty.  For some strange reason Typepad erased my bio and links pages (you'd think that a former engineer would have thought to save backup copies of those, wouldn’t you?).  And looking around, I remember how much fun I used to have writing up pieces for the site.  Unlike my old apartment, though, this place still feels like home.  Reading over some of the old posts, I realize that I'm not done here.

So, if you'll excuse me for a moment I am going to get the heat back on and see if I have any cat food in the cupboard.  Check back soon!