Let’s Write a Novel - Chapter 5, Paragraphs 9, 10, 11

Note: The novel from the start can be found by clicking on Lets Write a Novel , my associated blog. I have recently done a bit of rewriting there so it will be a bit different than the original posts on this blog.

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North Washington Street

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Chapter 5, Paragraphs 9, 10, 11
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---------Pardon me. Excuse me. Remember me, Ophelia’s daughter, the hard soul narrating this story. Well I’ve noticed that something odd is happening. As I extract from my memory these fragments of my family’s history and commit them to paper the story that I thought I knew is changing. Every family has private happy tales, sort of inside jokes, where all that needs to be said is a key word or phrase. Then the mind of the family is one, is communal. These are the stories that, although entirely true, are now myths, more true than truth. Do you need an example? Probably not. Your family, I’m sure has their own stories that have come to define you, you in the plural. At least for your sake I hope so. In our family the stories are what you are reading. The glorious department store, the opera house, the strange family in Rye, these are the family myths handed down to me. Also included in these myths are the other family stories. The ones not told at the dinner table: the grievances, the hurts, the grudges. These are told in confidentially, secretly. A mother may recruit a daughter to share a grudge. A mother may nurse a wound for many years, just waiting for a daughter to be old enough. These family tales, I also have begun to share with you. As I just said, I’ve noticed that something odd is happening. I thought I knew the story I was to tell. The memories are coming together in an unexpected way. It is like gluing together the shattered pottery shards dug from the sands of Illium. The pieces are all there, spread out on the archeologist’s table, but you can’t be sure what the thing will look like until you get it put together. Well I’m starting to put the pieces together and, for now, Abraham seems like a pretty good father. This is not exactly the story I expected. I, the archeologist of my family’s myths, am surprised at the emerging shape of the urn.
Again, sorry for the interruption. Just keeping you up on things.---------