Don't Blame Me

A book that changed me......not from the reading aspect, (Many have done that.) but from the writing aspect. I am a beginner! I tackled a huge story! One I was nowhere near qualified to take on as a debut. But I like a challenge. Sometimes I fail at it, sometimes I succeed. No matter the outcome, the challenge alone teaches. Writing this tale not only challenged me but changed me!

I would often sit, computer screen in front of me, one o'clock in the morning, blank! Not even scratching my head helped me find the words I so desperately needed to portray situations in 'Elizabeth's' life I'd never experienced, nor would I ever experience. I would constantly ask myself, 'How do I tell her story and do it justice?'

I found a way, just like she did.

While immersing myself in her tragic tale I had the gift of my imagination. 'Use it,' I would tell myself in those wee hours when everything else failed, even my fingers. 'Take a few deep breaths, get oxygen to the brain, and don't put inspiration on hold or it's lost.'

Surely she had not endured all that was written in her journals and remained humble, warm, funny and forgiving?

As I read, I began to understand. Our conversations had never gone that deep before. What changed her, changed me.

I thought I knew her well. We worked together for three years until I sold my business. The community warned me not to employ her - she is a criminal, they said. She was no criminal. She is, to this day, one of the most inspiring women I have ever met and remains a very dear friend whose life is still fraught with difficulties. We often do not realise how fortunate we are until we are faced with trauma, or meet someone who has dealt with it continuously. However, I hasten to add that as I wrote, my dear friend became one of the most irritating too!

I often used to ask aloud, especially when I was at a loss for the right words, 'Why the... !&^* are you still with him? Get out!' I'd read on and found the answers in the pages of her journals. Dumbfounded but in awe of such strength, such courage, I'd continue.

As I watched the rising sun smudge the skies pink, orange and blue, fingers tired and cramped, I began to feel a massive shift within me. Writing her story made me delve deep into my own hidden place. That cave where no other had ever trod - not even me. Her experiences, reactions and responses to situations prompted me to ask questions about how I would respond in those situations. Some days and nights I would cry until I had no tears left to shed. A cleansing of my soul and the frustrations of continuous editing! And then I found the courage and the words, and for days they would pour forth as if some divine force was holding my hand. Other days I would laugh aloud, remembering the numerous Saturdays we sat together with a glass of wine and laughed till we cried. None of her story is funny, but it taught me the value of learning to laugh at myself. I learned how invigorating and liberating that is, and now, if I fail at something, I look at it through her eyes - anything is possible to achieve through laughter, determination, courage and love - just keep on trying. She taught me never to switch on the emotional victim button, not that I practised that, but today, whenever I feel a little down or depressed, or stuck with my writing, I think of my special friend.

While I have learned to let my imagination run away with me, I still have to find those brilliant sentences filled with words that resonate with the reader, and keep them coming, page after page, chapter after chapter. I do this, not necessarily to win literary awards, but more importantly, I love it! I love trying to create a narrative to draw the reader in so they cannot put the story down, even rushing off to the loo is an inconvenient interruption!

Thank you, 'Elizabeth,' you changed my world and my view of the world. It is an exciting journey if we allow it to be one. Your story was a valuable lesson I shall treasure for the rest of my life. It taught me what to do and what not to do!