When I was twenty, I worked in customer service at a
Connecticut trucking company. Days passed in a blur of phone calls from irate
customers wondering why their vitally important ball bearing shipment hadn’t
arrived yet or when (insert stream of expletives) their 50 tons of artificial
sweetener from Georgia would finally roll in. It was a job with very few
highlights, other than chitchatting with the long-haul truckers about the
sights they’d seen on the road: houses made of corn, giant balls of twine, the
occasional UFO.
When one of those truckers—a kindly, fatherly type—told me
about his weekends flying around in his WWII-era plane, my eyes must have lit
up. “Want to come?” he asked. He pulled out a picture of a maroon plane that
looked more like a remote controlled toy than an actual means of
transportation.
“Yes,” I said. I’m not sure he’d even finished uttering the
question.
Fly around in an ancient tiny tin can? With a burly stranger
who claimed to be a licensed pilot, but who heretofore I’d only witnessed driving
18-wheelers?
“I’d love to,” I added. (Did I mention I was twenty?)
And fly we did. All summer, in fact. I’d eventually learn
how to take off myself, pressing the rudder pedals to keep the plane straight
as we taxied down the runway. We’d head to Martha’s Vineyard for lunch. We’d
cruise to Manhattan at night, where we had to fly low to avoid commercial
traffic. The Twin Towers glinted in the moonlight behind us as we circled close
around the Statue of Liberty to get a good photo.
“Want to go to Philadelphia today?”
“I always wanted to see the Liberty Bell.”
“How about Portland?”
“You bet.”
I never turned down an adventure.
Flash forward to a year later: a U.S. Air 737 drops out of the sky on a beautiful clear day
outside of Pittsburgh, killing everyone aboard. Investigators have no idea
why—and they won’t for four more years.
The next flight I take finds me dripping sweat and gripping the seat
rests. 15 years of flight fears follow. Hours spent watching flight attendants
for signs of trouble. Jumping at every captain announcement. Counting the
chimes over the intercom, wondering if it’s Morse code for “We’re going down!”
I believe if I relax for one minute, that plane is going to plummet to earth.
It’s my job to keep us all aloft. I just need to keep looking at that wing…
I’m exhausted after every flight. Fear sure is hard work. It’s
hard work I’ll let go of, eventually. I’ll finally surrender to the
overwhelming evidence that millions of flights successfully take off and land
without Kristen Kittscher there to micromanage the process with her mind.
When I’m having a terrible writing day (or week…or month?),
I think of that terrified flyer—and the senseless of all that hypervigilance.
Sure, a little self-consciousness comes in handy during revision. But when
drafting? You can’t worry about the fact that you’re in a tin can thousands of
feet up. Or that your pilot is a little more used to driving eighteen-wheelers
than navigating the skies. Or that a plane can drop out of the sky for no good
reason.
“Want to come?” your story asks you.
“Yes,” you must say. “I’d love to.”
And then your breath catches as you bank away from the
Statue of Liberty and take in the brilliant Manhattan skyline stretched out
before you…
This is fabulous, and I can't wait to share it with my class! We're exploring the theme topic of fear this month with our books, and this would be great to talk and write about. On another note, I really enjoyed your book, so keep writing! :-)
ReplyDeleteKirby, I'm so glad Colby posted about your blog on Twitter just now. What a great post! Love the metaphor and sorry about what your fear put you through. I think we all have fears of some kind or another, most of them simpler worries, but some can hold us back, waste our time and change our life in a detrimental way. Thanks for sharing, and certainly for the perfect metaphor :) I've seen your book on B&N shelves, but have yet to pick it up. If I had money, I'd be buying them all! And since Holly is quite the "recommender," I may have to add your book to my TBR list! :)
ReplyDeleteKirby, I'm so glad Colby posted about your blog on Twitter just now. What a great post! Love the metaphor and sorry about what your fear put you through. I think we all have fears of some kind or another, most of them simpler worries, but some can hold us back, waste our time and change our life in a detrimental way. Thanks for sharing, and certainly for the perfect metaphor :) I've seen your book on B&N shelves, but have yet to pick it up. If I had money, I'd be buying them all! And since Holly is quite the "recommender," I may have to add your book to my TBR list! :)
ReplyDeleteSo glad these thoughts can help your class, Holly (and that you enjoyed WIG)! Writersideup, it's true: nothing holds us back better than fear. Hope WIG makes your TBR list, indeed.
ReplyDeleteSo wonderful.
ReplyDeleteWell said. I also keep flights aloft through my powers of worry and by letting my fear radiate energy to the engine. But what you say here really applies to both writing and life. You just have to say, "yes, let's give it a go…"
ReplyDelete