180

180

Noel Laflin

2-23-15

“We haven't got the man
(Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov)
We had when we began
(Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov)
But since your grandma came
She'll marry... what's his name?”

‘Tevye’s Dream,’ Fiddler on the Roof

You know, a good number of the stories that I tell you, dear reader, are not what I had originally intended to tell you at all.

Case in point: I recently wrote a piece about homesickness.  But what you don’t know - it was supposed to be about how I came to love classical music – and in particular, the music of a long-dead Russian composer, Rimsky-Korsakov.

So, just how the hell did the final piece, “Homesick Homily” then end up being so different from what I had originally titled, “Scheherazade Summer”?  To borrow an oft-repeated line from the movie, Shakespeare In Love, “It’s a mystery …”

Another recent story about “plans” – a brief trip down memory lane that pays homage to an old neighbor who once saw something in me long ago, started out as a tribute to an old high school journalism teacher. But the “plan” changed half-way through the telling; words rebelled, keystrokes rearranged themselves and the whole thing re-wired itself.  Now, I am still going to talk about that teacher someday –  as well as Rimsky-Korsakov perhaps, just not in these particular stories obviously.
 

This re-routing seems to happen to me all too often … It’s got to be some form of ADD perhaps. Oh, look, what’s that!

Now, many professional writers point out time and again that one should have a “clear objective” in mind before they begin to write.  Okay, yes, I usually do have a clear objective in mind when I sit to write.  Otherwise, what’s the point?

But all too frequently along the way – say into the second or third paragraph for example, my words decide to make a U-Turn on their own accord.  They often times disregard what my original route was altogether, cleverly unbuckle my seat belt, unceremoniously toss me headlong into the back seat, and head for a new destination. And they get so hyped up in the process.

Jesus!  They took the wheel! 

I do not know how to explain it, other than to say that the words just freakin’ take over – they (to personify the little fuckers) mutiny and take sudden command of my wordy vessel. Oh, the traveling metaphors are out of control now …

And like the poor milkman in Fiddler on the Roof, I haven’t got the man, I had when I began. (Please see the movie or catch a community performance of the musical if you are the least bit befuddled as to the referencing here).

But, I have to admit it now,  I kind of like the surprise.  The new guy turned out to be pretty interesting anyway.
 

And here is the strange part – I do not seem to mind.  In fact, I usually welcome the new direction as it suddenly becomes an unplanned trip – and you know how they are frequently the best kind of adventure of all.