Writing in Camucia

I know it’s been awhile and I apologize for that. Here’s my excuse: I’ve been writing. And crying, and laughing, and writing some more. This week has been my first great work week, writing about 4-8 pages a day. I have a great working outline, and a lot of notes I have taken from interviews with family and friends. Before writing, I took a lot of time creating a timeline which helped me visualize the chapters in our life together and what stories needed to be told. I also reread a lot of material about Huntington’s that I had not read in years, stuff like, Alice Wexler’s “Mapping Fate,” and all of Nancy Wexler’s scientific writings about testing for the gene and the psychology behind being at-risk. [The Wexler family created the Hereditary Disease Foundation www.hdfoundation.org] This was the easy part.

Now I wake up, make my coffee, and pick a topic. Sometimes the topic picks me (I like to believe that Mike picks the topic when this happens.) I write till I have nothing left and then I go for a bike ride through the vineyards and the olive groves. By the time I get back I’m fairly wasted- physically and mentally.

The rest of the day is left to menial tasks—creating dinner, washing dishes, or putting Mike’s written journals into the computer, which can be more of a heady task than I realize, till I’m doing it. The last few days I have felt a little more ambitious, and at night I have added watching Mike’s video from the mountain to my writing preparation list. I was afraid of doing this, and at the same time felt a compulsion to be engrossed in my subject matter.

It has been easy to write about meeting Mike, and his family, and the adventures we’ve had together; I am laughing out loud most of the time as I fully feel Mike choosing the words for me. (“Don’t use the word ‘partner,’ I’ll sound gay.”) There’s this strange, quiet conversation going on around me; it doesn’t always contain words, sometimes sensations that come as I am writing. One example was the cigar smoke as I wrote about our trip to Havana. It has been less easy to think about the ending, which is a little crazy because that part is already written. In a nut shell, I write a “chapter” or topic, and then I try to add Mike’s writing/version at the end of that chapter. Needless to say, there has already been a lot written about the ending.

I have no idea if this will amount to anything for anyone else. I’ve outlined my process for you but I have no idea if that’s the way it’s supposed to be done. When I told my mom that I had sent a first draft to Lizzi and it was forty-some pages, she asked, “how many are you striving for?” I don’t know. How many is it supposed to have? I guess as many as it takes or until I run out, or until this “trip” is over! Three more weeks. Totally doable.

PS- I’m making dinner for the lovely CA couple who live above me in this beautiful place and I am making chocolate mousse for dessert. I am whipping the whole thing, whipped cream included, by hand. This is a true exercise in stilling the soul and becoming a hunchback. I can hear Cortona’s church bells in the background, and the roosters next door.