The Waiting Place

Jun 8, 2011 by admin

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Dr. Seuss, Oh The Places You’ll Go.

For over two years now I’ve been living with the idea of writing a book, Somewhere Between Lost and Found: A Story About God.  It’s about my vacation to India and its impact, broad and indiscriminate, upon my life.  Sometimes my thoughts about it have led to sustained periods of journaling, other times I’ve just wanted to rock back and forth, and foam at the mouth a bit.  In recent times, however, I have exercised a discipline I never knew I had to actually conjure, organize, write, re-write and edit my thoughts into a form that resembles a book.  For the past six months, I have dedicated impressive chunks of time to getting my experience in India out of my head and into a word document, an act that has been largely humiliating.

It seems that my preferred writing practice is to remain in my pajamas and isolate within my bedroom and write for hours before I can shower, exercise and have any semblance of a normal day and / or life.  It’s not enough that writing is itself a solitary thing, but I do my best writing disheveled and in a cave rather than in one of the many cool coffee shops in Seattle and among people . . . normal people.  So be it.

It seems fitting, I supposed, because the subject matter of my first book is in large part about isolation, so it makes sense that the telling of it would be done in that same spirit.  Anyway, after lo these many months, I have pressed save and forwarded the document it a few friends for their opinions.  That was scary and very hard to do.  With that single gesture the book is no longer just mine, but also the others who will now be forming opinions and offering critiques and experiencing it through their own lenses and worldviews. Yes.  Scary.  But what’s worse than the fear is the waiting.  I’ve lived with my book every day and now I’ve set it down to breathe and to breathe myself.  Now I wait to discern what the next steps, if there are next steps, might be.  Waiting.

Waiting for a Yes or No.

Peace and Blessings,

Nicole Y. Walters