Hi Gang, thanks a bunch for your constructive critique last week. I needed all the help possible to continue.
I just read The Beginning . . .Not The End, a trilogy I wrote last year. To my delight, these mature stories kept me occupied all day laced with humor and tenderness, as I spent the day with my precious granddaughter between swims, lunch and fun time.
On with When Double Becomes Single. The good doctor calls Sharon, waking her from sleep. Never a good sign when a call comes in at 1:30 a.m. and your loved one is in the hospital.
In a daze, Sharon dressed, headed downstairs, pushed the garage door button and wondered vaguely if there was enough gas in the tank. Soon she reached the highway, paid the toll and sped west to the hospital as ordered. She blinked over and over again. The trip from their home in the suburbs after midnight with a light snow falling reminded Sharon she’d forgotten her glasses. Where was the snow shovel and who would do the job of cleaning off the driveway and the long walkway? Too soon for her since hip surgery still had healing to go. A lot of mending happening in this thin body. Barry always called her his pocket wife, so small he could tuck her in his winter jacket. So dear, her Barry.
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Ah yes, the little things that one thinks about at a time like this. Very realistic!
That’s me, Ed. Always the realist. Sometimes it’s painful.
Oh dear, I hope she’s not too distressed to drive safely. So sad. 😦 But that picture of you and grandest is just precious.
I worried about her too, as I wrote. Geez! Writers are a nutty bunch.
Ain’t that the truth! I don’t hesitate to weep over my characters, even while I’m the one making them suffer.
You capture her anxiety and distraction well, Charmaine. I think we have all been there at least once in our lives, and this is how it felt.
Thanks for the intimate comment, Kim.
Aww, Charmaine. The bit about him calling her his pocket wife was my undoing. I’ve got the sniffles now. But then all I have to do is look at that sweet picture of you and your granddaughter and I’m all smiles again. 🙂
I’m so happy the picture revived you, my friend. It does that for me every time.
Even while trying to focus on the mundane tasks, those precious memories seep in. Precious, realistic, and beautifully written!
Thank you, dear Sara.
It absolutely makes sense for you to worry about her as you write, Charmaine! We may have a story all planned out but sometimes characters react differently from the plan. She may come through this with more scars than you expected. It’s that element of the unknown hidden in our characters that keeps us interested, writers and readers alike.
Love this excerpt, BTW. But I always do!
I didn’t know what to do with her after her loss and the I kept thinking what did I do. One step and another to get through each day and the conflict with the bad son and his wife is scary for a widow who never drove at night or made decisions.
Thanks for the confidence booster.
Oh, that part about forgetting her glasses – and she’s driving in the snow, to the hospital…yep. I agree with everyone’s comments – those are the sorts of things that happen when you’re in crisis mode. Great Eight, Charmaine. Adorable photo with the GD – love the eye contact in that shot.
I’m overwhelmed by the comments. Thanks, Paula. You don’t miss a thing.
what an awful feeling. all the doubts and concerns while driving. Love, love, love the pic of you and the grand 🙂
Well, shoot. She’s really going to need some help if what I fear has happened…
No one close to help the widow Sharon. She’s on her own.
Oh my, the tension is building. Love the little insights into their relationship you’re giving us and the way you tell us so much in so few words. Great job!
And Tina, it’s just the beginning. What’s an author to do? So we carry on, open our veins and let emotion take over.
Pocket wife! So cute! I feel her anguish and worry as she ponders the small things that loom large for her in the moment.
A life time stretches before her without him. I’ve been there. What a dreadful way to step forward with a smile on your face.
Love your photo with “The Grandest” – adorable (both of you!). A very realistic snippet, exactly the kinds of muddled thoughts one has at a time like this. Having been widowed suddenly (many years ago), I do know. You’ve captured it…excellent excerpt.
Thanks, Veronica. We’ve both been in that heartbreaking place.
Oh, I dread what is about to happen . . . your foreshadowing is heartbreaking all by itself!
(What a pretty picture at the bottom! 🙂 )
Sarah, please come over to hold my hand for a little while.
Thanks for liking the picture of grandest and me.
You do a great job of capturing one’s mindset at a time like that. I’m totally there with her, speeding through the snow, present and yet not. Very emotional.
Thanks, Alexis. Your comment means a lot to me.
“So dear. Her Barry.” I think you did an incredible job of showing what goes through a person’s mind at a time like this–when they’re on the way to the hospital, unsure and terrified of what they’ll find. I’m hoping for good things for her.
Optimistic, dear Teresa. Thanks for the encouragement for the long road ahead.
The fear of losing someone is always filled with the random thoughts of what will happen now, who will take care of me, how will I manage. I think it’s the way we all cope with losing someone we love. The pocket-wife comment is filled with emotion,
All of those questions flit through a widow’s mind as she faces facts. It’s not a pretty time unless your’e surrounded by loving friends and family and Sharon is not. To be revealed soon.
So very real, the way she reflects. You have me worried, fearing for her.
Me as well, Cara. She’s very much a part of me as I write. Next story has to be brighter although Sharon turns grief into something quite wonderful.
Great picture of how the mind wants to shy away from the painful or prospect of pain. I can’t believe this will turn out well for her and Barry.
Jenna, you are so right.
Loved her inner thoughts as she heads to the hospital. So realistic to worry about other things in a crisis. It’s almost a protection mechanism so not to linger on the real worry that you have no control over. Well done.
Karen, you nailed it. Protective mechanism. And then you move on to mundane worries.
This is so heartbreaking. Super emotional.
And so it is as close to real life as you can get. Thanks, my friend.
Must have been family outing time… I just am getting back to the online world. Looks like you had a ‘grand’ time too. After writing that snippet, you needed the reminder that there are happy things to live for, I bet. I often do when I write scenes that hit a bit too close to home.
Eden, you are so right. I kept thinking I’ve got to stop writing this and then, NO she will get through one step at a time because that’s what women must do in order to survive and thrive. Thank you.
Very realistic post. You nearly made my heart stop! I love the picture of you and your grand daughter also. Absolutely beautiful.
Neva, you are a sweetie. Thanks for the lovely comment.