Somebody else’s novel

I’ve been thinking about a novel for a long time. There’s a mother and her daughter in it. A mysterious stranger comes to town. They both fall in love with him. What I don’t know is their fates. Of course, their fates are my fate since they are products of my words. I won’t fool myself about that. Still, I like to think of them existing in some world not my own. There’s just no way to write their fate if I don’t think that way.

They’ll do normal things: fix a flat tire, eat fresh picked strawberries at the end of summer, exchange gifts at Christmas, pour coffee into cheap cups bought at the local Wal*Mart, and sit in a car and watch a movie at the drive-in. And of course, they’ll make passionate love the like they never experienced in their lives. Their hearts will soar like eagles and shatter to pieces. The strangeness of that contradictory phenomena always delights.

At the end, no matter what their joys and griefs, their lives will go on. That’s unavoidable.

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Published in: on February 19, 2008 at 11:15 am  Leave a Comment  

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