A Writer's Time Machine

A box arrived at my door this past weekend. It was from my sister, who'd recently made a trip home to Malaysia. Once open, on top was a packet of "heong pieng," one of my favorite Chinese chewy "cookies," for lack of a better term. Yay. Below that, some batik clothing that my sister knew I like to wear for sleeping. Goodie. My other ones were getting soft and old. Then, lastly, underneath, something odd--a bulky bunch of yellowed sheets of ancient paper. Huh?

I pulled the pile out and went through them. My mouth slowly fell open. Math homework in preparation for my MCE (O Levels) exams. Letters. Bible study course. A poem. Oh. My. God. I flipped through the papers, looking at my name and dates.

1977. 1978. My very extremely neat handwriting stared back at me. I put aside the math homework. The letters called to me more.

I opened the first two. They were from a penpal who lived in Texas. For thirty years I've forgotten about him. He was a few years older and wrote about electronics and working on a calculator. We used to write pages and pages to each other, me happily practicing my English and he wanting to learn more about people. He asked me for advice (ME!) and I must have happily dispensed them like any cheerfully wise teenager with lots of crazy ideas in her head because in another letter, he thanked and agreed with my suggestions. LOL. Something about telling him to go out more and meeting people. Like I would know, since I was about the most sheltered girl in Malaysia at that time. I turned over his picture and laughed at the sight of a young man with 70s hair. Yes, I remember this photo. I must have told him I wanted to be a writer because he also mentioned that.

I opened the next letter. It was from a boy. Huh, I didn't recognize the name. "My sweet darling," it said. My mouth dropped open again. My sweet darling?! I checked the name again and I still didn't recognize it! It was a letter to me, with many endearments, with questions and comments that revealed his knowledge of my school, things I did for fun, and books I read. This boy was my sweetheart and I couldn't for the life of me remember him! How is this possible? For thirty years, I had believed my first boyfriend was the young man I dated and with whom I went to college, but now this letter from my past is mocking my memory (hanging my head in shame). I still can't recall anything about this boy who called me his "sweet darling." What did he look like? How did we meet? Did he just disappear from my life or did I break up with him? Is it even possible to entirely forget one person who was supposed to be so special (still hanging my head in shame here)?

Then, there was the poem. It was very long. It was very romantic. It was very scary. And. It. Was dedicated to Donny Osmond. AHAHAHAHHAHAHA! Now my love for Donny, I remember. I wanted to marry him ;-). I take it back--Donny was the first love of my life. And every time I see him on Youtube and on TV I still grin back fondly.

So remembering two out of three ain't so bad, right? :-)

Like all the unexpected things in my life, the time machine came as an answer. All month, I've been struggling with an urban fantasy proposal, about a time-traveling (of sorts) Viking. It has been an excruciating experience because I'm a pantser and am now, for the first time ever, trying to plot. I've been world building and ripping those worlds apart, over and over, not satisfied with the conflict and the story arc. I can see my character, Mr. Viking Dude, so clearly, and it was frustrating to have to hold his actions back because I needed to view his world more clearly. Time traveling is part of it, but this isn't your momma's old time travel tale. No, no, no, I didn't want the going through a stony column in Scotland. No touching an old brooch in an old hotel for my Viking Dude in my urban fantasy. No waking up in the body of someone else in the past.

I don't know whether time travel is a real thing or not, but somehow, I've managed to sent an answer to myself thirty years ago and it arrived this weekend. Here, in this pile of old letters that arrived, were solutions to my writer's block. A mystery that my Viking must solve. A quest, in fact, locked within letters from strangers who were friends. And of course, a love letter that he couldn't remember ;-).

Now, I just need to put all these ingredients together to get it right.

I'm just totally fascinated by the "timing" of this!

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