Admitting to the story under the story

This week, I got this short piece published in this online magazine out of Nova Scotia called Understorey. Its own underlying story is that it launched in November 2013 as a project of the Second Story Women’s Centre in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. They published seven issues on the many facets of motherhood and in 2016 Understorey formed a new partnership with the Alexa McDonough Institute for Women, Gender and Social Justice (AMI) at Mount Saint Vincent University in Halifax. Under an editorial board and editor Katherine Barrett, its mandate has diversified to include a whole range of themes important to Canadian women.

A million stories in one

Initially, the piece I wrote, The Trouble with Margaret, was written way back in 2012 like many of the Salt Spring stories I have written when the experiences I had while living there between 2008 and November 2011 were still really fresh.

The original version of this story referenced many other aspects that this final version omits. I edited it down to 1,500 words from 3,500 in order to meet the callout for stories related to a theme of “Service.”

It’s still hard for me to believe that I chose to take on this part-time, overnight care-giving role that I write about and it’s an episode in my life that was, I’m not afraid to admit, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Because in addition, sometimes after not sleeping for most of the night, and making Margaret breakfast and dealing with whatever might have happened during the night, I’d have to get ready to go to my other four-day-per-week job at the employment centre by 10 am. I know, if you’re a parent, you’re like, so? What are you saying? What’s weird about that? Well, in an ideal case, at least as a parent, you theoretically end up with engaging adults at the end of it that have brought you some amount of joy. We can only hope. No guarantees!

When I re-read the story, I think, I’m not being honest. I haven’t described any of my own really negative feelings about what it was like to be on that overnight duty. The story doesn’t really tap into that aspect at all. But that’s the thing about stories. As the writer, you get to mold them. I could write ten stories about this experience, each one different which could be an interesting exercise, actually. And so, it’s true that stories are never really done. As soon as they are printed, many writers’ obsessive and doubting selves want to start all over again because they see what’s on the page and they also see everything that has been omitted.

The most predictable relationship in life

But there are only so many days in a lifetime. Other stories are calling out to be wrestled to the page. And that reality emphasizes, yet again, that the most important and predictable relationship — the most intimate, the most vivid and long-lasting and yes, ultimately the most satisfying — is the one between the writer, their thoughts and the blank page. It just has to be that way.