I didn’t mean to, but because I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to do a lot of things, and so I wrote about the edge. I wrote about falling off the edge, that moment where things are going to alter. That story that defines a person’s life the way falling in love physically changes the shape of the brain (it really does). A story the narrator will have to tell over and over to everyone who loves her after. This is what I came from, this is what happened before.
Now I have books and research, a rough outline and notes and a pen the boy gave me. I have new book in my head.
And with this book, I want to write about afterward. Because afterward is infinitely more interesting. Afterward is where we are. Afterward is how to pick up, how to make things better, how to make things real, how—-if not to erase—-then to unlearn. To relearn: what a promise is. Because we didn’t meet as children, before anything bad happened, before anyone was lied to or misled or manipulated or hurt.
All that happened. So what.
Now is what. Now is the rest. The rest is really, really long time. Afterward is the bulk of the story.
Again, I am on roughly the same journey as my narrator, and I’m looking forward to it. I’m really, really looking forward to it, the writing of the story as well as the making of the story in my life, the remaking, relearning, shaking out knots, trusting, taking your hand.
