Coincidence or providence? I am always amazed how a simple moment can change the direction of a life......
I read at night to quiet my brain. No matter what the subject matter, anything from comedy to a serial killer’s blade, I begin to feel dozy within 15 minutes in and I’m out for the count in about a half hour. If I don’t read, I’m awake tossing and turning, my brain hammering out thoughts in rapid succession, thoughts popping up like blowing soapy water through a ring.
Because I only read at bedtime, it takes me a while to chew through a novel, but that’s okay, it’s not a marathon. Sometimes it’s one step forward and two back because I’m so tired a sleepy fog settles over me and I have to reread that same bit the following evening. Usually I get a half hour in before the book falls over, waking me so I turn out the light.
When Deborah Sweet told me she had a memoir of Barbara Carter’s I was curious and borrowed it. Back in high school I knew of Barbara by name but we never really engaged. For that reason I am amazed that I remembered her so vividly and could have drawn her from memory. We never hung out, nor did I run with her crowd. We were opposites, she being popular, having fun with boyfriends and partying while I was busy being nondescript, blending in with the boring wall flowers.
So a few months back on a Friday evening, I started reading her memoir “Floating In Salt Water”. It captivated me from the beginning. Her childhood circumstance was different than mine but the emotions that resulted from her experiences were a perfect match. It was uncanny really, as if our thoughts lived in a parallel universe. Time melted and the wee hours ticked away threatening to bring on the crack of dawn, forcing me to put the book down and turn out the light. Sleep eluded me as I mulled over what I’d read. I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off sometime after 5.00 am.
My feet were dragging all day Saturday and when I got home from work the only thing on my mind was the book. I broke my rule of not reading during the daylight hours, gathered snacks and water, snuggled the pups around me and picked up where I left off. I finished her story around 1:30 am. I was filled with emotion and quite surprised at how good I felt. Strangely, there was a comfort in knowing that someone else had a difficult childhood and that I hadn’t cornered the market on unhappiness. I know that sounds strange, being happy that someone else suffered? But, I was offered proof that I wasn't alone, that someone had traveled a similar path and I felt elated. I grew up feeling persecuted and unloved and someone else shared this pain. There was a reassurance in her words, I’d found a kindred spirit.
I sat contemplating both of our lives for a while and was oddly energized. I jumped up to open my laptop. I clicked on my own book, Burnt Carrots, realizing I’d not visited it for some time, so long that I’d forgotten the password. I tried several combinations and finally one worked. The first page opened and familiar words leapt off the screen. I started reading my own story with new eyes. I too have a memoir of sorts. It’s basically 95% my life, with 5% embellishment. If hard-pressed I’ll admit it’s me but I like to think it’s just a story about a girl making her way through life, suffering hard knocks and surviving despite them.
I was really touched by Barbara’s story. It evoked memories in me and brought emotions to the surface. Our stories, although polar opposites, as far as experiences were concerned, ran parallel with emotions. We are very close in age, she was born Christmas day 1958 and I was born on the 18th of the same year. Only a week apart and living across the water from one another, we never knew the other existed.
So she has inspired me to get back to my book. It is written, I only have editing, the unending part, but I want it as polished as possible before I hand it over for grammar checking and professional editing. Then I’ll visit the process of self-publishing. From everything Barbara has shared with me, writing the book might be the easy part as there is a long process to get the story in print.
After I read her book, I searched out Barbara on FB and sent her a note to say I really enjoyed her story and how it touched me. We messaged back and forth and decided to meet. We had a fun afternoon sitting in the Hook Nook at my studio getting to know one another while reminiscing about school and catching up on our lives today. She is working on the next chapter of her life and has invaluable information of the publishing process. Later this month we are going to have a sleepover to immerse ourselves in our stories, throw ideas back and forth and enjoy our new found comradery.
So I’m back on the writing trail, newly inspired and excited about it once again. My book is titled Burnt Carrots and there are 575 pages which needs some paring down. My life experience isn’t better or worse than any other but it is filled with moments that others might relate too. I wonder if a reader will react to my story in the way I did reading Barb’s, because that would be fantastic.
It's cathartic to tell tales and I have some funny stories that will make you smile and others that might make you cry. I've unabashedly bared my soul although my face might be crimson as town folks and people I know read the most intimate details of my life, but the story needs a foundation of truth to rest on, so it has to be all or nothing. The older I get the more I know we all have secrets and skeletons locked away, so none of us are entitled to cast stones. Besides, they say, other people’s opinions of me are none of my business. I’ve changed names to protect the guilty but a few feathers might be ruffled but they also say, if I cut you off, chances are you handed me the scissors…..
I read at night to quiet my brain. No matter what the subject matter, anything from comedy to a serial killer’s blade, I begin to feel dozy within 15 minutes in and I’m out for the count in about a half hour. If I don’t read, I’m awake tossing and turning, my brain hammering out thoughts in rapid succession, thoughts popping up like blowing soapy water through a ring.
Because I only read at bedtime, it takes me a while to chew through a novel, but that’s okay, it’s not a marathon. Sometimes it’s one step forward and two back because I’m so tired a sleepy fog settles over me and I have to reread that same bit the following evening. Usually I get a half hour in before the book falls over, waking me so I turn out the light.
When Deborah Sweet told me she had a memoir of Barbara Carter’s I was curious and borrowed it. Back in high school I knew of Barbara by name but we never really engaged. For that reason I am amazed that I remembered her so vividly and could have drawn her from memory. We never hung out, nor did I run with her crowd. We were opposites, she being popular, having fun with boyfriends and partying while I was busy being nondescript, blending in with the boring wall flowers.
So a few months back on a Friday evening, I started reading her memoir “Floating In Salt Water”. It captivated me from the beginning. Her childhood circumstance was different than mine but the emotions that resulted from her experiences were a perfect match. It was uncanny really, as if our thoughts lived in a parallel universe. Time melted and the wee hours ticked away threatening to bring on the crack of dawn, forcing me to put the book down and turn out the light. Sleep eluded me as I mulled over what I’d read. I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off sometime after 5.00 am.
My feet were dragging all day Saturday and when I got home from work the only thing on my mind was the book. I broke my rule of not reading during the daylight hours, gathered snacks and water, snuggled the pups around me and picked up where I left off. I finished her story around 1:30 am. I was filled with emotion and quite surprised at how good I felt. Strangely, there was a comfort in knowing that someone else had a difficult childhood and that I hadn’t cornered the market on unhappiness. I know that sounds strange, being happy that someone else suffered? But, I was offered proof that I wasn't alone, that someone had traveled a similar path and I felt elated. I grew up feeling persecuted and unloved and someone else shared this pain. There was a reassurance in her words, I’d found a kindred spirit.
I sat contemplating both of our lives for a while and was oddly energized. I jumped up to open my laptop. I clicked on my own book, Burnt Carrots, realizing I’d not visited it for some time, so long that I’d forgotten the password. I tried several combinations and finally one worked. The first page opened and familiar words leapt off the screen. I started reading my own story with new eyes. I too have a memoir of sorts. It’s basically 95% my life, with 5% embellishment. If hard-pressed I’ll admit it’s me but I like to think it’s just a story about a girl making her way through life, suffering hard knocks and surviving despite them.
I was really touched by Barbara’s story. It evoked memories in me and brought emotions to the surface. Our stories, although polar opposites, as far as experiences were concerned, ran parallel with emotions. We are very close in age, she was born Christmas day 1958 and I was born on the 18th of the same year. Only a week apart and living across the water from one another, we never knew the other existed.
So she has inspired me to get back to my book. It is written, I only have editing, the unending part, but I want it as polished as possible before I hand it over for grammar checking and professional editing. Then I’ll visit the process of self-publishing. From everything Barbara has shared with me, writing the book might be the easy part as there is a long process to get the story in print.
After I read her book, I searched out Barbara on FB and sent her a note to say I really enjoyed her story and how it touched me. We messaged back and forth and decided to meet. We had a fun afternoon sitting in the Hook Nook at my studio getting to know one another while reminiscing about school and catching up on our lives today. She is working on the next chapter of her life and has invaluable information of the publishing process. Later this month we are going to have a sleepover to immerse ourselves in our stories, throw ideas back and forth and enjoy our new found comradery.
So I’m back on the writing trail, newly inspired and excited about it once again. My book is titled Burnt Carrots and there are 575 pages which needs some paring down. My life experience isn’t better or worse than any other but it is filled with moments that others might relate too. I wonder if a reader will react to my story in the way I did reading Barb’s, because that would be fantastic.
It's cathartic to tell tales and I have some funny stories that will make you smile and others that might make you cry. I've unabashedly bared my soul although my face might be crimson as town folks and people I know read the most intimate details of my life, but the story needs a foundation of truth to rest on, so it has to be all or nothing. The older I get the more I know we all have secrets and skeletons locked away, so none of us are entitled to cast stones. Besides, they say, other people’s opinions of me are none of my business. I’ve changed names to protect the guilty but a few feathers might be ruffled but they also say, if I cut you off, chances are you handed me the scissors…..
Barbara Carter's book can be purchased on
Amazon by clicking this link:
https://www.amazon.ca/Floating-Saltwater-memoir-Search-Answers-ebook/dp/B01LWLW4Q5/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1494354225&sr=8-2&keywords=Floating+in+Salt+Water
Amazon by clicking this link:
https://www.amazon.ca/Floating-Saltwater-memoir-Search-Answers-ebook/dp/B01LWLW4Q5/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1494354225&sr=8-2&keywords=Floating+in+Salt+Water
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