When is Enough Enough?

I have just returned from a week or so on the beautiful island of Corsica. It is a very popular holiday destination with people from mainland France and perhaps less well known and less frequently visited by English speaking countries such as the U.K. This is slowly changing with more regular and direct flights to Corsica. My experience of the island caused me to reflect on yet another aspect of the process of writing my tribute to Eugene and Pieter, which I will explain later on.

First of all, a word of warning, the island is not a suitable holiday destination for anyone with a fear of heights or suffering from vertigo! I have always been a mountain lover and as a passionate skier I have spent much of my time on mountains. My love of mountains is in the genes as my mother’s family comes from the heart of the mountains in Switzerland. My family learnt to ski and navigate mountains at the same time as learning to walk. I therefore feel suitably qualified to assure you that the mountains on Corsica give any other mountain range a run for their money.

The island is one big mountain range. It consists of one layer of mountains after the other like layers of flaky pastry punctuated by deep, narrow valleys. One of the fascinating things on the island is that animals of all description roam around freely from dogs, mountains goats to cows. To my utter amazement and contrary to any experience and belief I’ve ever had of cows, these have developed the skill of traversing steep mountainsides and emulate their much smaller and agile cousins, the mountain goats. How these animals find their way back to their local pastures or farmers keeping track of their herds is an anathema.

We had every intention of driving around, visiting all the main tourist spots and towns during our stay but this was an ambition very quickly thwarted after our first trip to visiting some of the villages on the ‘must see’ list. There are virtually no roads that do not involve traversing narrow mountain roads and a journey that would normally take an hour in most other countries where I’ve travelled takes at least three. It is a busy island with a lot of traffic and despite being out of the holiday season the roads continues to carry numerous coaches ferrying tourists around the island, not to mention local buses for commuters. One particular journey we thought would take 2-3 hours took us nearly 7 hours.

Tourists not familiar with mountain driving etiquette continue to drive as they would elsewhere, which is on the rear bumper of the car in front instead of leaving the required minimum of 200m gap between cars. The result is that meeting a coach on the narrow winding mountain road means that there is no room for maneuver and neither cars nor coaches have the space for reversing to allow others to pass. And believe me, there is no opportunity for any leeway as there is only the empty space of drops of hundreds of meters between you and the edge of the road. So, on our first trip we very soon found ourselves on a gridlock road with traffic not going up or down. The only thing we could do was to take the opportunity of spending a couple of hours on a photo shoot of the breathtaking scenery until inch by inch space was cleared for coaches and cars to pass.

After this hair-raising experience we thought we would take the advice of an earlier traveller to the island and make use of the local train. It consists of one line that eventually forks to the west of the island on the one side and the other track continuing to the northern finger of the island. We should have guessed that it would not be an ordinary train journey. Without a shadow of doubt the scenery was as spectacular as those found on the car journey and there were no coaches to look out for coming around the tight hairpin bends. However, it was a very narrow railway line hugging the side of the mountain, snaking around tight bends with equal drops of significant spaces of emptiness. Although the train didn’t need to negotiate coaches blocking its way around the tight corners, but instead it had to negotiate the mountain climbing cows, goats and the odd pig.

The train driver took it all in his stride and disconcertingly took his eyes of the track while chatting to the conductor and sharing photos on their mobile phones. This was not engendering any confidence, especially when negotiating a tight bend across a viaduct spanning a valley some thousands of feet below. The train journey reminded me why I had given up on the various white knuckle rides to be found at theme parks; I am just too old to be scared half to death! We intended taking the left fork of the train line the next day, but decided that once was enough.

So how did my experience of negotiation the mountains of Corsica allow me to reflect on my writing? Well, as I mentioned I am passionate about mountains but after our various experiences of these majestic and breathtaking mountains, I began to think that enough is enough. There comes a point when any experience tips into this category and I then asked myself what will be the enough limit of my book and that which I will share about Eugene, Pieter and their experiences of their own white knuckle ride living with terminal cancer?

How many memories do I share with my prospective readers? How much would they want to or be capable of reading? When would enough be enough and what do I include and what do I omit? At this moment of my journey I do not have the answer and it will no doubt only become clear when I embark on the editing and rewriting stage. For now it is back to my own more gentle and comforting mountains in our part of the Languedoc region in mainland France.

The Fear of Letting Go

When I embarked on this journey of writing my tribute to my brother Eugene and his partner, Pieter, I did not anticipate the many decisions associated with process of writing. Ignorance is bliss! Being a novice to any endeavor means we are able to approach it with the naivety and wonder of a child. However, as we become more familiar with the subject we also become aware of the many challenges and choices we need to make.

As I am getting closer to completing the first draft of my book, I am aware of feelings of unease that are beginning to surface. I have spent so much time, energy and emotions on writing my book and now the time to share it with the world is drawing closer. For the duration of writing my book it was just me my feelings and reflections and the many memories of Eugene and the life he had lived. It was like being involved in a secret relationship. Now the time has nearly come for me to share that special relationship with others.

One of the many reasons that makes letting go of any piece of writing difficult is the need for perfection. No matter how well it is written, we can always rewrite it in different ways that may either subtly or substantially change the meaning thereof. The peril of perfection also means you are never satisfied with what you have written and you are always looking for the perfect way to express yourself and your ideas. The internal critic is forever striving for mythical perfection and if you let go and bring your writing into the world, the opportunity for further improvement will no longer be possible.

There is also the emotional element of letting go of a particular piece of writing. It is your baby and you have created it over a period of time and accepting that it has grown up and need to go into the world is part of the challenge. I also have enough self-awareness to know that once I let go of my book and put it out into the world, it will in some way be like letting go of Eugene and the shared life we had. It will bring a finality to the knowledge that future experiences I will encounter will be without Eugene’s knowledge and without the opportunity to share it with him.

Any creative process, writing included, requires a partnership between technique as well as emotions. It is much safer to focus on the technique and learning to craft words and sentences with technical expertise, but it is not enough. We need to be present in our writing, sharing our uncensored passions that come from the heart. We need to have the courage to dive into the depths of our emotions. This is all very well when it is just you and your writing, but sharing it with the world is a different kettle of fish.

Associated with the emotional challenge of letting go of a piece of writing is the possible criticism from others. It is inevitable that some readers will be offended by some of my statements, disagree with the opinions voiced and disapprove of my style of writing. The reality is that you can’t please all of them all of the time and this book was not written to please anyone. Its sole purpose was to share the story of two exceptional people with whoever may be interested in reading about their journey with terminal cancer. The challenge is to know when to let go and when enough is enough.

Ultimately it is about letting go of the need for approval, the fear of judgement, the fear of doing it right, the fear of ridicule, the fear of failure, the fear of upsetting others and so the list goes on. I will therefore in due course gather the courage to put my writing out there for all to see.