January feels like a good time to begin again, yeah?
The other day when I was dancing around my living room, listening to George Michael, and confessing to my children how, when I was a teenager, I had a life-size poster of him on my bedroom wall —you know the one: bare feet, jeans, guitar and a sultry smile– it hit me that one more piece of my childhood had been taken away this year. I know that seems dramatic. I never knew George. I never even saw him in concert. I was too young to venture out with my sisters to the show. It could have also been that at the tender age of 14 my parents weren't thrilled to send me to a concert titled the "I Want Your Sex" tour. Instead I was given a token black concert t-shirt. I didn't know what "Explore Monogamy" meant, but I wore that t-shirt with pride, much to the horror of my mother.
The thing is George Michael was only one of the pieces I lost this year. Added to the collection are two authors that contributed to my love of reading, and later writing: Lois Duncan and Harper Lee.
I can still remember the day my teacher closed the book after reading two chapters of To Kill A Mockingbird and I knew what I would be doing the moment I got home from school. My dad never hesitated to take me to a bookstore when I asked. And he never hesitated to buy me a book I was too desperate to continue reading before school the next day.
And Lois Duncan... well. She's pretty much the reason I can't watch scary movies to this day. Reading her books at night were terrifying. But I did it anyway. She taught me entirely too much about ESP and a whole lot about how tension in a novel is created.
Lois Duncan and Harper Lee. They are my go-to authors. You know, when someone asks who you read as a child, or who your favorite authors are. They are the ones.
Musicians, authors and, oh yeah. Actors. 2016 took a few of them as well.
I never really got into Star Wars. It wasn't until last year when I was dragged to The Force Awakens that I finally got it. Yeah. That was a movie I could get behind. In fact I just watched it again for the third time. Carrie Fisher was a classic. She was Princess Leia all the way until the end. But it was the loss of her mother that stole another piece from me. Singing in the Rain was my childhood. When I was sick or down or bored, or it was a day that ended with a Y, I watched Singing in the Rain or On the Town. This year when the dreaded flu invaded my house I slipped those movies into the DVD player and watched my daughter soak in the healing vibes otherwise known as Hollywood musicals.
George Michael. Harper Lee. Lois Duncan. Carrie Fisher. Debbie Reynolds. Only a few of the pieces that filled our backgrounds. Our geography. To me they were the pieces that pushed forward my creativity, forever filling the spaces between my highs and lows.
This month begins again my continued writing of KATE TRIUMPH book 2. Writing is never easy. Sometimes I need to take a break. But the need to create is always there, even when the world feels like it's turned a bit too far to the right, or the people who painted your childhood are missing.
January is always a good month to start writing.
