I learned about the three Ls: Loneliness, Love, Longing. Maybe add Lunacy, Lethargy, Loss. Pretty soon, you have a novel. I don’t want to write novels. Yes, I know that, if I did, they would not be good or novel. I know that. Old Scolding Woman’s novel friends look at my self-published picture books with scorn, horror and revulsion, as if they might be scalded and scarred by the mere touch. I love my books. They capture my view of life, love and art absolutely. Anyway, it’s not that I can’t type fast enough to write a novel. It’s not that. I type fast. My Momma made sure of that.
I spent my life becoming. My young self is dead to me. My middle aged self is dead to me. My scientist self is almost dead to me. I am trying to adjust to my retirement and give up on all my former selves. I became a scientist by accident. I wanted, or thought I wanted, to be a physician. I applied to medical school. Science turned out to be a better fit. Now, I know how horrible it would be to be a doctor. Doctors know nothing. Doctors can do nothing. Doctors lie to patients. Doctors give false diagnoses. Doctors give un-useful advice and treatment. I have taught in the medical school. I know doctors and pre-doctors. They are less than human. Less is more, is what I was told. That means you can’t teach medical students or doctors anything. There is no sense in trying.
I wanted to be able. Not useful. Able. I wanted to work with my hands. I didn’t know this at first. It took a while. I approached this as art before science. It took some time to learn to be more of a scientist and a little less of an artist. So, I became more myself, but slowly. What I think I mean by this is that I became less of my former self and more of my current self that now must morph into something unknown to me. So, I am satisfied, as is, but still I must change. Of course, there is some continuity. We are collages. There are parts of me that will be able to make this transition without surrender or change. Other parts will suffer.
I was wondering why no one likes my Cow/Moon Tails books, which I think are perfect. Currently, I believe it is because my books are concentrated on the Old Farmyard rather than focused on a single character. Much of novel writing (and picture book writing) is focused on the hero’s journey. I did not want to write a hero’s journey. I am not interested in accomplishment. Accomplishment is your 15 minutes of fame (now downgraded to 5 minutes). My books have many heroes. An Old Cow (Old Elsieburt) jumps over Old Moon. Old Rabbits jump over Old Venus. Old Angry Man finds Old Hayfork. Old Scolding Woman hunts Old Mice clutching Old Hayfork. Old Farmhouse protects Old Children. Old Girl Child scares Old Fox and protects Old Mice from Old Cat. Old Girl Child watches Old Sunrise and Old Moonset sitting next to Old Cat looking out at Old Haystack. I wanted Old Children to focus on many Old Heroes. I wanted Old Children to love Old Farmyard and Old Heavens.
My son Sam was barely old enough to form words, but he told a story. He pointed up at the loft and said, “Bee”. His mom and I knew just what he was talking about. There was a wasp buzzing around the loft. This was months ago, before Sam could talk. We assailed and killed the wasp. Apparently, the story stuck with Sam until he learned to articulate it. One thing this told me was that Sam knew words and language before he uttered them.
From the experience, I try to tell stories without too many words. I’ve yet to tell as complete and good a story as the story Sam told about the bee. Maybe there are no better stories than “Bee”.
I read up on the heroine’s journey. It seems like an improvement on the hero’s journey because it is more complete and more feminine. Men have an X chromosome, just so you know. Without our X chromosome, we would be dead.
I am still looking forward to my 5 minutes of fame (downgraded from 15 because of overpopulation). It could come at any time. I wait patiently.