When I was 18, I worked the midnight shift as a cashier at a tiny gas station.
It wasn’t a convenience store/gas station hybrid that is commonplace these days. It was just an unremarkable gas station where many of my dreams were born.
My job consisted mostly of staying awake, alone in an eight by 18 foot box. The front end was the cashier’s booth. A door led to the back room which served as the storage room/restroom and the location of the safe which only the manager had access to. There was only one door leading in and out of the gas station. And it opened outward, not in.
The glass was bulletproof, or so I was told. I almost found out first hand, but that’s a story for another time. Other than gas, we sold vices – cigarettes, chips and candy, all which I placed into a drawer and slid to customers on the other side of the glass.
While I was relatively safe in my box, it was amazing how often my thoughts turned to hypothetical scenarios and what I would do in response.
Every car that passed a bit too slowly posed the threat of backing into the door, effectively locking me in the booth while its occupants started a fire. Every girl that flirted with me was secretly trying to get to the contents of the safe. And the people on the pay phone behind my booth, well, God only knows what devious deeds they were plotting, but surely their plans involved getting to my safe and/or backing a car up to my door.
It’s amazing the things you think of at 3 a.m. when you’re all alone on an empty stretch of road.
As you can tell, I had a lot of time on my hands. Time to think. Time to dream. Time to write.
My imagination amped to 10, story ideas flooded my senses.
I wrote several scraps of stories during the four year span which followed. I say scraps because I never completed any of them. A lot of the ideas were crap I have long since forgotten. But there were also seeds for what will someday be Great Novels!
I planted these story seeds with love, carefully cultivated them with extensive notes, character biographies and back stories.
I never went to work without my story seeds, stuffed into a large brown, weathered expanding file folder bound by a brown cord. I carried this folder in a backpack as I rode my bicycle (and sometimes walked) five miles each way to work. The folder was a beast to lug around, but I never left home without my seeds. I never knew when inspiration would allow me to plant another.
Somehow, during the passage of years, I lost track of this batch of seeds.
I had moved on to other interests. I had my first serious relationship. I had my first serious breakup. I moved out of my parent’s house and into an apartment. I was in my 20’s and life was changing rapidly.
While my story garden overgrew with weeds, I still visited from time to time, if in spirit only.
I hadn’t seen the folder in more than 14 years. Some of the stories were merely fading memories, ghosts threatening to be forever exiled to purgatory.
Several months ago, my mother called to tell me that she had found something of mine while she was going through boxes of junk.
It was the folder. My story seeds.
It was bulky and tattered, but still bound by its threadbare cord which invited me to unwrap it and to step back into my garden.
To be continued Friday…
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Ooo that is such a good find by your mum (although the fact that it was in boxes of junk was a bit harsh!)
When my parents were moving house they phoned me up to say they had found piles and piles of old Smash Hits magazines (they were THE teen music magazine of the day) and that the ones with Duran Duran on the cover had been cut to ribbons!
What can I say, I was a Duranie!
Taras last blog post..This week we’ve been mostly saying . . .
I love this! I can’t wait to hear more. Are you going to resurrect some of them? What did you think when you began to re-read. Ooooh, I can’t wait. I love discoveries of old photos, old letters and journals.
When my mother died and we were packing up her house, I encountered several of my old journals. They were absolutely banal.
But I also found the love letters my father had written to her, long before their relationship deteriorated. It was wonderful to read the words that proved they’d been in love.
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I had a hay day when my mother was moving into her new place. I got a chance to go back through all of my old things. The old G.I Joe characters and little green army men. My journal where I collected all of my thoughts of gymnastics and diving workouts, but mostly girls. It was like I stepped back into my teen years. After going through it all, I decided it was finally time to get rid of it and move forward into my new life.
That brown folder of yours, if I had one, I would hang on to that for dear life. Who knows what ideas and concepts will emerge after so many years of sitting in the back of your mind. I can’t wait till Friday.
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AWESOME, Dave. I’m doubly excited to hear where this is going.
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UrbanVoxs last blog post..Drinks are on me!!
Tara – Well, it wasn’t Junk junk, just a box of stuff of mine which had been sitting around forever and filled with stuff I would deem junk. Other than the journal. I recently found on old box of my own which had some magazines from back in the day, on the cover of one was Duran …wait for it… Duran! This was before I discovered cooler music with lots of guitar and hair spray.
Betsy – Thanks! I’m glad a few of you enjoyed this. I knew this text heavy post might not be the quick read that most blog readers enjoy, but it will lead to something special Friday… at least the writer in me feels that. Those letters sound awesome! As for journals, I would be too embarrassed to read my old thoughts. Banality squared!
Sal – Thanks for the comment. Wow, you got rid of your old journals? That musta’ been tough to do. Some part of me might be reluctant to despite how embarrassing the teenage me sounded. And on Friday, I will speak of just what I found in the folder.
Writer Dad – Oddly, you may already have an idea.
I think my latest comment might have been spammerized!
I was talking about my diaries from more than 10 years ago…
I was going to rule over the world!
UrbanVoxs last blog post..Drinks are on me!!
That’s fantastic!! I hope you take your ‘seeds’ and make something grow from them!!
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Dave, this is a great piece, I’m not even going to ruin it by making some stupid remark… and trust me when I tell you I have several lined up.
I only wish I’d had a similar love of writing. I have no idea why my daydreaming didn’t turn into writing. Maybe I was frightened that people would find my stuff and mock me. Not sure.
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I cannot wait to read some of the seeds from this tattered book/folder of yours!
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Sometimes Mothers just do something really right! A small cheer for Mother’s keeping tabs on things…Father’s can too!
My honey has kept every piece of art work my kiddos have accomplished. Some he used for wrapping gifts, but most he sized and put into 3 ring binders and each child has about 10 or 12 of them. These are awaiting full launch!
I am looking forward to the novel and your other writing for the new blog!
The love of writing it is sometime just a tattered old folder…or a gem.
Thank you for sharing
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I had a similar, recent find while cleaning my office. My mom had saved an essay that I wrote in college and I found it among a bunch of papers. Turned it into a blog post (although I forgot to credit Mom for keeping it!):
http://deafmomworld.com/uncovering-written-memories/
Looking forward to reading your “seeds!”
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