On Writing Caught in a RIPtide by Judy Condie

By Judy Condie

Last year I lost my dog, my dear mum and my husband all in the space of six months.
I felt a real need to get away and learn to be alone, reset my life and come back stronger, with a new purpose. Australia was the obvious place to start as my daughter emigrated there many years ago and we needed to spend time together, especially as she had a new baby on the way. While there, I decided to I wanted to travel further around the country.

Having always written down my thoughts over the years, I was especially keen to keep a note of everything I could about my trip, as I knew I wouldn’t necessarily remember the details in the circumstances. I was one of those people who always wanted to write a book, but life got in the way.

I wrote with a passion to realise my true grief, without anyone around to put on a brave face for. The words flowed and the tears ran, and I felt a definite emotional shift as the pain in my chest started to ease, ever so slightly. I felt excitement in my stomach, and I wrote for hours until exhausted. Before I knew it, I had several thousand words and was beginning to realise others may find my experiences relatable. I could only write my story, but at least it distracted me from my loneliness and filled my head with different ideas.

In Tasmania, I found the perfect place, a chalet right on the beach, completely isolated and beautiful, offering me the peace I had yearned for to start healing alone. I could scream at the sky and cry in the sea without embarrassment.

Consequently, over a five-month period, I travelled 30,000 miles, took 14 flights and visited five countries, all with my trusty 6-pound backpack!

It is an upbeat and positive book, honest but often witty as I encountered many funny situations on the way. I included information about the places I visited as another point of interest, as it was also fun to do simple research of the different locations. I took a lot of photographs which, ultimately, I was able to transfer into pencil drawings for inclusion in the book.

I purposely didn’t read everything I wrote down until I returned home, in case I had the urge to change something I might regret, perhaps losing the rawness of the moment. I did, however add some chapters I had written when my husband was undergoing treatment, representing the whole story we shared and the changes in emotions before and after his death.

I took early retirement as my husband and I worked together and it just wasn’t the same without him. So, I now had the time and the drive to push on through the different stages of self-publishing. Luckily, doors seemed to open as if by magic and I was introduced to a book designer, a proofreader, an illustrator and a printer. It certainly felt like the time was right and, as I reached each new level, I became more confident in the process and enjoyed this potential change of career.

My husband was passionate about raising money for the societies that had supported him so well, namely The Royal Marsden Hospital and Bowel Cancer UK. Having promised I would carry on his work, although I was unsure how to initially, the idea of donating a percentage of any profits from book sales to them was really appealing and something I have since committed to.

As the book evolved and the positive feedback came in, the butterflies of excitement replaced the grief in my chest, I was developing my new identity and, although I didn’t have to prove anything, it was nice to feel like a valued part of society again.

I have included an excerpt from my book which I wrote very soon after losing my husband.

Driftwood
…Will today bring fierce stormy weather and rapids, leaving me exhausted and battered, or will I gently float on top of a quiet millpond, alone in the warmth of the sun, appreciating the peace around me? Will I stay face up or roll face down?

Whatever each day brings is unknown until I open my eyes and remember I am that broken branch now, instead of being part of the tree I once was. That tall, blackened, lifeless silhouette still appears proud and strong after it dropped me into this river, and I now have to find my way through the rapids and ripples until I reach a more peaceful and familiar place. The dark, blue river courses through a colourless landscape like an unfinished painting by numbers. Maybe one day I’ll be glad to get caught permanently in the riverbank, letting new life settle around and on me, giving me stability and a purpose once more.

All I really want to do is to fight my way back upstream with all my remaining strength and find my beautiful tree again, alive with leaves and birds, and reattach myself to it so we can be as one again. But I am no salmon, and the mighty oak is dead and bare now, getting further away from me each day. So,I’ll try to accept myself as driftwood and see where the river of life takes
me next…

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BUY  CAUGHT IN A RIPTIDE HERE

Judy grew up in Surrey and still lives close to her family home. While she and Richard were busy raising three children and working, writing was never far from her mind with observational humour being her preferred style. However, she found comfort writing in more depth after the cancer diagnosis and subsequent loss of her husband last year. Having taken early retirement Judy can now focus on her new life and fulfil her desire to write.

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Category: On Writing