write it right
Vintage shirt cut up by yours truly.
Growing up, I had a sneaking suspicion that my family was keeping a secret from me. There was nothing obvious, more like a feeling, or perhaps it was my intuition. When I was twenty-two, my mother sat me down and told me that my father was actually my step father and that I was adopted by him when I was two.
I had what you might call and out of body experience, watching myself float above the conversation as she continued her tale of star-crossed lovers. In the end, she didn't have much information to offer me except his name, date of birth, the names of his two children (my half siblings, I had half siblings!) and the fact that he was an artist and a professional race car driver.
So many years have passed since that day that it's hard to articulate how I felt when it all happened. I just remember deciding that I needed to find him and then embarked on a six year long mission. I scoured the web and the globe. I took planes to foreign countries, asked anyone and everyone that may have had a connection with him, consulted private investigators, searched for possible relatives and ultimately came up empty over and over again. It was like he was a ghost, and I didn't even have a photo to recognize him by.
About six years into my search I felt somewhat defeated, and as I always do when I feel a sense of despair, I took to my words and began to write about it. I decided to write a novel, and created a character in my likeness. She had the haircut I wanted, the success that I longed for, the love interest that I pined for and most importantly, she too was on a quest to locate her biological father. Call it therapy, but it was a great way to work through some of my frustrations.
Of course I would have her find her father in the book so I could experience the moment, if not literally at least by proxy. I was about seventeen chapters deep when I realized, that as all good books will tell you, it takes time to build on characters, plots, and the ultimate climax. I still had a long way to go, and it felt as though my own personal search was beginning to mirror that of my beloved heroine.
One day, I decided that I needed to skip ahead. I threw caution to the wind and wrote an isolated chapter about their meeting, and figured I would fit it into the novel when the time came. So I wrote my little heart out. I talked about how she felt when she finally saw him, spoke to him, how the sun beamed, what the air tasted like, what she wore, how she felt and anything else that would make the moment seem real and tangible.
Two weeks later, I found my half brother, and a few days later, my father called me and we spoke for the first time. He cried, as he told me he'd been dreaming about this moment for so many years... and how he was looking for me too but didn't know my name.
There's of course a lot more that follows this story, but my point here is, if you need something, if you want something, if you must have something, be gifted to it and write it out as if it's happening and watch the magic unfold.