I took on a writing project recently that I thought would be easy to casually write out over a few months. I later ran into what is often referred to as "the elephant in the room". That thing was the presence of a person intrinsic to the events that took place in 67% of the period I chose to write. This definitely complicated matters, but never did I think that it could not be done.
Now that I have reached that intersection, I realize that the pace is going to slow down dramatically because I suddenly am required to walk the next several miles on broken glass. Working on such precision points of focus to show respect for the other person has far more personal obstacles than I thought there would be.
I now can see potential dangers from the corners of my own mind in which I could display blame or resentment because of my self-imposed rules. Below the surface, details I vow to not tell might be the equations of why things are the way they are, yet they can only exist in a silent world. I also can see a raw paradox since I have to inject such mature principles in writing about a time in which maturity was so scarce. Then again, maybe that is what allows us to see it so clearly as opposed to thinking that the writer is two-dimensional and missing the point.
I now realize that this type of project goes so much deeper than mere storytelling. It is a detour into places that may not be given proper consideration. It also makes me realize we all have a point in life that we are so hyper-focused on one thing while at the same time, something else is there that seems commonplace and we hardly acknowledge it. Then, forty years later, you would give anything to have given more attention to the things taken for granted. I now see this in me and have seen it in previous generations too.
When I decide to reach back in time and bring forward memories that would have continued to fade, the ink defines itself against the white page and the blurriness of the lines goes away. The print becomes sharp again and with it, I am suddenly knocked off my feet and taken in the middle of the night into the past whether I want to be or not. I learn things, I feel things. It is a trip to the moon, you cannot change your mind once the journey begins. The countdown has passed, my harness is holding me tight and the force of takeoff is pushing hard on my chest.
The reality is, I chose this mission and also everything that I will see along the way. There is no way out of here, so deal with it.
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