Skip to main content

the good part

The last few days I spent a lot of time in the car…
Which means I read lots of books.
But it seemed like every time I was getting to the good part,
it was time to stop for gas or for lunch or to find a lost toy or my husband suddenly wanted to engage me in conversation or Owen want to show me something…..well you get the idea.

In a story, the “good part” is called the climax. (and I’m sure you all know this and don’t need an English lesson from a girl who doesn’t believe in grammar, but humor me
here…I am getting to a point…maybe….at least I hope to get to a point). When I googled climax (carefully of course or else I’d have all kinds of definitions that I could not post here)…this is the definition that popped up: “The climax is the result of the crisis. It is the high point of the story for the reader. Frequently, it is the moment of the highest interest and greatest emotion. The point at which the outcome of the conflict can be predicted.”

In addition to all this car reading, I’ve been thinking a lot about “my story”. And that it is pretty boring. If I was a book or a movie most of me would be edited out. And some of that is my fault. Exciting people takes risks. They do hard things and those are compelling. And I occasionally take risks. Like trying a new brand of detergent….but you probably don’t want to read about that.
But a lot of times what draws us in is a character’s struggle. And sure I’ve had mine. But lets be honest, most of them were middle class white girl problems which aren’t so interesting or so bad.

And I wonder why I write this blog. If I have anything to say that is of interest to anyone else. Because there is no tragedy here. My life is amazingly good and tragedy-free. Not perfect of course. We still get the flu and lose our patience and spill milk. And I struggle. With trust and discipline and pride. But we are all well fed. When we are sick we get better. We don’t always have nice new things, but we have more than enough. There are tears, but there is also lots of laughing. And the occasional living room dance party or water balloon fights.

So maybe if I want more people to read about my life…….I should start getting to the good stuff. Which in books consists of conflict and loss. In books this is where you get to “know what happens”. But in living, we don’t really ever get to know much more than a few steps ahead. And sometimes not even that. And also in living, as opposed to the reading or writing version of our lives….maybe this middle part…the boring part…is the good part. Filled with french fries and kites and roadside diners with twelve different kinds of pie.

Yes, this is definitely the good part. And it is far better than fiction.

Comments

Have you been to chattingatthesky.com? Her Tuesday's Unwrapped? (I feel like every time I comment I'm leaving you with somewhere else to go...)
Anyway, it's about finding beauty in the every day. It's there - it's writing worthy - it doesn't have to be big drama and struggles.
I don't really know where I was going with this comment, but I loved your post. I've hit that point recently, and have been thinking a lot about why I write. Even if it's about the little stuff, I like to be heard, and I want to remember all of this.
michelle said…
Thanks Corinne...and I love the places you send me :)

Popular posts from this blog

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev...

me too

I used to never question God. It was just part of the way things were. Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. And eventually I grew up and started to wonder. I always believed, But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good. If he really loved me. Singular me rather than an all inclusive version. That he was paying attention. That my prayers mattered.` And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules. That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list. Because I know. But sometimes I wonder. And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers. (but I guess prayers never hurt) And I was just hoping for someone else to say “me too”. And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith Is one great big “me too” And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers. Hard ones. Ones without real answers. Ones that make me wa...

Of course I did.

Today I am supposed to be doing my last installment in five for ten and write about "yes". And this is not at all the post I intended. But life sometimes doesn't take the turns we want it to. And yesterday a teacher friend of mine called and told me about a memorial service for one of my former studetns and asked if maybe I would consider saying something. And keep in mind, that as a teacher, I pretty much speak to groups of people all day for a living. But. If I have to say something serious and heartfealt, even to an audience of one, I usually get all mumbly and stare at my shoes and forget what I was going to say. Even though I love this kid....and will miss him terribly I have a hard time imaging myslef on stage talking to an auditorium filled with grief stricken friends and family. I texted another friend about my reservations. And she knows all too well my mumbly shoe staring state. And she replied, "Did you say yes?" Did which I typed back. "of cour...