Yesterday, I was looking at Basel maps and tourist sites, wondering what museums I felt like visiting and how I might wander along the Rhine. But if I dared put aside the habitual approach to a new city, one of the most culturally exiting in the region, and be honest, the current exhibits didn’t draw me in. Instead, I felt an urge to pick up and go to Paris for a dose of romance, creativity and champagne-on-the-curb. Then, your post arrived.

Is this a sign? I almost called you to say: So, if you’re looking for a sign, come meet me in Paris. Would you? Could you? I’m in a small town, right on the edge of the Black Forest and 20 min from Basel. It’s all mixed up here, Germany, Switzerland, France and in a few days I’m headed to the alps, where some Latin speaking yoddler types live.  Last night, a small group of people gathered at my friend’s house, and after a few glasses of wine, we spontaneously started making up ‘fairytales’ about each other. Two told a story in tandem, sort of like we are telling this story, in call and response fashion, back and forth the words move, while we each take turns, waiting the next move. Could it be so simple? To just tell the story, or stories, letting them unfold?

Is this a sign? As I’ve stepped away from my ‘everyday’ world and am looking at my life from this vantage point between the Black Forest, the Rhine and the Alps, the desire for creative expression and meaningful exchange is as alive as ever. Maybe it is truly a need, and maybe there’s pain in not honoring the need. This morning I told my friend, Cordula, who gives a fuck about old art in museums, who wants to be a spectator in other people’s lives and creations, I want to make my own creations, I want to express what’s inside me.

Is that a sign? I thought about my apprehensions about this project and its potential. I thought about Sally and Rick, merely skeletons of two characters and figments of our former, younger selves. I thought about the two of us, how courageous we could be, in laying our hearts and minds bare on the pages. I thought about love. And how significantly different my perception of love, or how it figures in my life (or not), is now compared to when I was 27. I thought about what we love. And, what would happen, if we each poured all we’ve got into this story. If we dove deep into the project and the themes, questions, fears and thrills raised within and between us. What IS it that draws us?  If we knew, what it is we most say? If we gave it our all, what would it become?

I appreciate you calling me out, and I think inside these questions, we will find our sign.

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1 Comment

  1. Characters are pouring out of me (Is this how characters are born?) and one of them might as well be Rick.

    Sure, I’m working on my non-fiction, my online course for writers, but when I get to sneak away into the glorious land of the imagination? That’s when it’s Kid In Candy Store.

    I almost can’t help it. The characters just want to get out of me, through my fingers and onto the page so others can enjoy their stories as well. If we can’t tell their stories, who will?

    Maybe it’s up to us to at least give it a go. Maybe it’s time.

    This is what happened when I spent a week in Italy.

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