Delivery (Living) Room

I sat on my second-hand couch, windows open to the sounds of San Diego Bay, a beer in hand and hit the final period. My Macbook was humming and I was blinking at the cursor in time.

There I was, 9 months pregnant with a story. It was my idea, my tale. The embodiment of my own make-believe scenario that, in a funny twist had actually reflected the reality some of my close friend's called their life.

I emailed my favorite teacher from High School and asked if it were permissible to use his name and likeness in the book. His response was a very comedic and supportive, "yes." I emailed the guy who was going to help me publish the book and build a website. What I thought was done was actually far from it. It was only the beginning.

The manuscript was six pages and 1600 words and had a few punctuational errors, like it's mother. I had given birth. No amount of support from my friends, encouragement from my publisher or online research could have prepared me for the sleepless nights, midnight feedings and love this project was about to require in order to sustain life.

Transition

In October 2008 I was on a plane to the Pacific Northwest. A few days later I decided to drive back to Southern California. That road trip was both cathartic and cleansing. I had had one heck of a week and the one thing that hadn't changed, was that he was still a good dad.

I was writing my Masters Thesis, searching for employment and couch-surfing. I got really good at the latter two. I did both for about 361 days. I had no address, no income and no idea what I was going to do. As you can imagine, the story I had fallen in love with was banished to the confines of my journal and my desire to write it waned. Maslow's hierarchy was in full force.

2009 came so quickly that I felt it fast-forwarded straight to Fall. I had relocated to San Diego, moved into a new place and begun examining the contents of numerous boxes.

The journal from that trip found it's way to the coffee table. I re-read my entries and re-examined the concept. It took a few days of contemplating, but I realized that the original story was the embryo. He had simply been the seed and I was the incubator. This story line was a fetus and I, it's lifeline.

I allowed the tale to develop over the first trimester into a broader description of fatherly love. By the time my baby bump was showing, I had realized that the greater story to tell wasn't just of him, but of all the great fathers that I knew. I have been blessed to see wonderful examples of fatherly love through my family and friends.

In it's second trimester, a wider look at more diverse fathers was introduced. The love of one father was foremost in the defining of the bond with his child and his commitment to her. I used the names and likeness of numerous prominent friends in my life and my most admired family members as subjects.

The third trimester sent me gaining permission from those subjects, fine tuning the story and coming to the realization that gestation was nearly complete. As with any expectant mother, the nerves set-in.....and the thought that I didn't know what I was doing. I had to stop the water from breaking.

Inspiration

This is my third attempt at an introduction to me and my blog. You would think that someone attempting to be an author who has grown to enjoy writing would allow the words to flow easier. Nay, I am my own worst critic and have erased facts and anecdotes that I thought would give you some glimpse of me, my pending book, this digital journal and the new journey I am on. 

I have never considered myself artistic despite my appreciation for art. I would never title myself as talented, despite my admiration of those that truly are. I find the interviews conducted on artists fascinating when they delve into the source(s) of inspiration. How a graffiti mural can stem from a famous quote or how a lyric can be birthed from watching a sunset is mildly captivating and ultimately astounding. It's also something I am trying to develop, especially as I grow as a writer and as a human. I won't lie about my inspiration.....there was this guy.......

That is either the beginning of a beautiful love story.....or the beginning of the end. If you know me personally, you know it's the latter. 

I won't bore you with statistics or even take the time to look up facts on what qualities women seek and find most attractive in a partner, but I'll go out on a limb and say that some form of desiring fatherhood/loving children/embracing paternity is near, if not the top of most women's lists. Well, this guy was a great father. Loved his son wholly. He participated fully and was eternally committed to his boy. That's one thing I really dug about him. 

I was on a train somewhere in the middle of Siberia. It was sometime around 3am and the symphony of snoring was barely audible over the racket of metal grinding the tracks as we barreled along.  I grabbed my journal and lit it by the 1inch screen on my iPod. I loved traveling. I was on the adventure of a lifetime; taking the Trans-Siberian Railroad from Beijing to Moscow and then backpacking beyond. My feet hung over the end of my bunk, I hadn't showered in days, I was subsiding on packaged noodles, pickles and vodka. It was awesome. But, in that moment, at 29 years old, I wanted to be with him. Pretending to be a family; a parent to a boy and a partner to a man. 

This is how the book first took life and I, in turn, began another adventure.