I blinked away the tears as I drove. It took two days before I realized what I had just shared with everyone.
I had taken a healthy chunk of my pain and rendered it into a small magical pill exceeding no more than 1000 words. I hadn’t sugarcoated it or disguised it. I didn’t put a disclaimer. Maybe I should’ve. But hell, the cover of the story offered a hint, no?
I woke up the other day with Consolation of the Rose in my head. I found it there — I didn’t seek it out, brainstorm it or anything of the like. The idea merged with a Celtic myth (The Magic Rose) I had read about earlier and voila! A quick read with an emotional punch.
I have been accompanied throughout my writerly interests by an unwavering conviction that it is extremely difficult to write about things that have hurt you deeply. I still believe this to a fair extent, but I was able to circumvent this problem by evoking the point of view of my father instead of myself. He’s a simple man with complicated pain. Apparently the device worked well.
What you are saying
Two words keep coming up: “Capture” and “Beauty”. If I’ve managed captured beauty, then consider this story an evocative success.
It consoles me to be told that I captured so much in so little. The impact seems to have been heavy and immediate for readers who know me personally and for those who don’t. We all seem to know the same pain and share the same hopes.
If you enjoyed Consolation of the Rose, please consider leaving a review on Goodreads (you can log on with Facebook).