I've been reading Emily of Deep Valley by Maude Hart-Lovelace. It's kind of a spin-off in the Betsy-Tacy series, a book that says, "meanwhile, in other people's lives..." Laura gave me the book for my birthday, saying that I should be able to identify with Emily. I surely can! In the book, Emily stays home to have a "lost year" while all of her friends go off to college and she feels lonely and depressed and without direction, so she takes on all of these projects to give her life meaning and I'm not finished yet so I don't know what happens or how it ends, but presumably she ends up with this handsome schoolteacher.
This has inspired me to start writing things down in the hopes that eventually I will publish the memoirs of my year in the paradise that is my personal hell. (You will notice that this is another project to give my life direction.) I tried to write some things earlier today, but failed. The reason? I lack perspective. Also, I can't yet figure out a way to not make this a story about my first major experience in heartbreak, but mostly it's the perspective thing.
Unlike Emily, whose story was published decades ago, my story is still in progress. And sadly, it's still in exposition mode. I'm on the third or fourth chapter of being miserable and moping around with nothing to do. I have yet to encounter an inciting force, some event that sets things into motion.
I fear it's getting too late. This story is only a year long, and I've spent five months of it in exposition, and it's not even great exposition. I mean, it's slightly better than three blank pages symbolizing Bella Swan sitting in her room wearing the same outfit for three months and screaming into her pillow every night, but it's pretty lame: work every day; cry in church; sit at home and write in my journal while listening to The Civil Wars; lather, rinse, repeat for five months. Something had better kick me into rising action mode pretty quickly.
For Emily, going to a dance with Cab Edwards helped. There's a dance at the institute this weekend. Not really my scene, and I'm certain we won't be doing the Turkey Trot, but maybe I'll crash. See what happens.
I'll keep you posted.
Life is for the fighters, and we can't become big buff awesome warriors until we've fought our way through hell. Also, sometimes the great thing coming in our lives is not quite ready for us yet, so God has to put us in a holding pattern until it's the right time. Which of course can be frustrating, especially if you'd rather be somewhere else during your holding pattern stage of life.
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