Years ago, one of my professors told me that she thought I did a wonderful job at exploring the “why” questions in my work, but needed to work on the “how”. I couldn’t help but laugh, because her criticism of my thesis papers is also true of my life in general. I’ve always been much better at the winged question of why than the anchored reason of how.
I’ve decided that it’s time to take a risk, fulfill a dream, and embark on a year-long, cross-country writing trip. There’s no one answer why, but many. And while I don’t believe in fate, I do believe convergence, and in forks in the road.
If you’re a parent, especially one who’s single or divorced, you probably understand why I’ve always chosen the safest road. When my daughter was placed in my arms for the first time, and then my son, I didn’t think “I’ve got to write a novel” — I thought, “I’ve got to give them the best life possible.” Over the next two decades, this meant working at whatever jobs paid the most, instead of the ones I may have liked the most. Sometimes it meant working two jobs so that I could live in a better neighborhood with better schools. Being a single parent gave rise to many precarious situations –- there were times I didn’t know how I was going to make it –- but I never questioned why I absolutely had to, no matter what the challenges were.
I harbored the thought that when my children were grown, I’d rebirth myself into a second life where I’d fulfill all my deferred dreams. The problem for me was that I’d grown so used to living inside the boundaries of parenthood that even when my kids became adults, I maintained the habits of someone who was still scrambling to make ends meet, and putting my writing off to the side as something to do in my spare time. It didn’t help matters that my resume looked like a social experiment, and that over the years I rarely submitted any of my work for publication.
In 2008, so many things converged in my life that it felt rather like an avalanche. My hours at work were drastically reduced, which threw my finances into turmoil. I was stalked by a nut who worked for the postal office, and spent months looking over my shoulder. My daughter got married. In November, I became ill, and then I lost my job. Illness continued into 2009, and I had no health insurance. Life as I knew it, as I had so diligently fretted about it and maintained it over the years, came to a screeching halt that ultimately ended up in front of a fork in the road. I knew that I could do what I’ve always done in uncertain times — hardscrabble my way back into a safe but ordinary existence –- but there was a gnawing in my gut that wouldn’t go away; that felt all at once like hunger and repulsion, as if I’d sat down to the same bowl of thin, unsavory soup one too many times.
I knew that I had profoundly changed. I wasn’t the same person who once created ad campaigns for Caesars Tahoe, or who managed vacation properties up North, or who delivered mail as a side-job so she could write a book. I was no longer the person ruled by a pay stub and fearful of doing anything that might destabilize the foundation. As odd as it sounds, the fears I experienced during this time of turmoil seemed to have inoculated me against fears of taking a risk on my future.
Sometimes ideas arise in a funny, sideways fashion, and that was certainly the case here, when I let my imagination consider what I would do if I had actually won a sweepstakes I had entered, where the grand prize was a Ford Mustang and some cash. The answer came to me immediately –- I would take off in my car, and go in search of interesting people and stories. I would spend a year of my life on the road, in search of everything good, inspiring, truthful, redemptive, and beautiful about life in America. I would get back in touch with the part of me that loves to ask questions and explore the various answers, as well as the spiritual part of me that is rejuvenated whenever I am in the mountains or sitting out under the stars.
Of course I didn’t win the sweepstakes, but I did learn that my dreams were still very much alive, and that my desire to write something bigger and more encompassing than this blog was thriving. Once I knew that –- once I understood why I wanted to travel across the country –- I knew that the how could be either an obstacle or an opportunity. I could tell myself that I wasn’t in a position to fulfill my dreams – that they should be deferred again – or I could take a risk on my own talent and resourcefulness and trust that I would find support along the way.
Obviously, I decided that this was a dream that wasn’t going to be deferred. I’ve already mapped out the first part of my journey, which will include Iowa, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Presently in the queue for interviews are nurses, Jonestown survivors, the children of migrant workers, and an aspiring film maker. There will be many, many more. I’m so excited I can barely wait to begin!
There will be a new blog to cover my year on the road, during which I’ll be seeking out people from all walks of life, from farmers and artists to inventors and entrepreneurs. I started a site called One Writer, No Address to kickstart my journey, which will begin in October, but the name doesn’t quite convey the spirit of my road trip, so I thought I’d have a contest.
There will be two winners. One will be chosen at random from all the entries received, and the other will be the submission I like the most. The winner of the random entry will receive a fun surprise package from me, filled with goodies worth at least $20. The winner of the best submission will receive a $20 gift certificate from Amazon.com as well as a surprise package. The contest will end at 12 noon on Sunday, September 20, and the winners will be announced here and through email.
I look forward to reading all the entries, but most of all I look forward to meeting some of you during my year of travel!
Update 9/21 – Congratulations to Grand Prize winner Barbara for her entry “Finding My America” and to Kim Nelson, winner of the randomly chosen entry. Thank you to everyone who entered and shared their ideas!
Besides, Hank’s feelings might be hurt if I left him behind. Yes, I have that kind of attachment to my vehicles — the kind that gives them names and personalities. Hank is a rough and tumble kind of guy, a little rusty, but very loyal. He never fails to start, and though he may not be as quick or handsome as he once was, his engine still purrs and his heater still works.
