Bones & Reputation

Not sure I agree with Uhtred, but I sure liked watching him on The Last Kingdom.

Earlier in the summer I read The Empty Throne by Bernard Cornwell, one of the books that inspired the TV series The Last Kingdom. The main character, Uhtred, says that all men (people) truly leave behind are “bones and reputation.”

(By the way, the August book giveaway will be this book! It was a fun, exciting read.)

Bones and reputation. Not sure I agree. The bones, yes. That’s obvious. But reputation? I mean, I’d like to think I will leave stories and lessons and memories and impact. Way more than what people thought of me, right?

The other day I was chatting with a friend, and the conversation got round to the idea that none of us knows how long we have, so why not do the fun and memorable things. Take leaps. Jump in. Spend a little money. Don’t wait for some day, in case it never comes.

If you only had a short time left, what would you fill it with?

While I was in Nova Scotia, I bought tons of books by Nova Scotia writers and about the places I visited. One of them was Bobbi French’s The Good Women of Safe Harbour. Ohmigod, I could not put it down. Read it in 48 hours, and by the end I was weeping. Like full on, ugly-cry, gulping. So. Damn. Good.

When the story opens, the main character has been diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. (This is not a spoiler.) This inspires her to do things, go places, speak up, like she never previously has.

How could I live as if there were no tomorrow?

Nova Scotia was a bucket list destination for the longest time. But I don’t have to go so far, or spend so much money, to have life-changing experiences. In my own car, peeling away the miles, I reached new destinations, met people, learned the stories of the land, sampled culture, history and texture.

It’s not just monumental experiences that are worth writing about. The moments are way more interesting. Little tiny detailed moments. That’s what life is, really.

A Cape Breton Moment

Usiage Ban Falls

The water is screaming, rushing, has no time for me. Rocks the color of life - sky blue, rainstorm, flushed cheeks, the cold of winter. Bright green moss furs the surfaces without question or permission. The water ripples and puckers, clear as sense. A perpetual mirror.

Trees fallen in last summer’s storms bisect the flow, but the river keeps tripping and tumbling, foaming at the catch, eddying in quiet pools. I could listen for hours. Stilling my mind for real truths.

Later, waterfalls and wildflowers along steep rock walls. Awestruck when a place is new, can I appreciate it enough if I return again and again?

Driving Home

By the time you read this, I should be back in Michigan, done driving, starting to unpack. I’ve never been good at long solo drives. The rhythm of the car makes me sleepy, and no amount of podcasts or loud music or bad coffee or donuts could break the trance.

But I don’t want to be that needy person who can’t face the lonely road.

I went south to Yarmouth, took the ferry to Bar Harbor, Maine, then set off down through Massachusetts and across New York to Ohio and back up to my home to prove to myself that I can do hard things. Raised to believe in fear of the unknown, I’ve trained myself to face the dark and feel my way.

We each have an internal compass that points the right direction. Why don’t we follow it?

Thank you so much for reading Lynne Golodner’s Rebel Author Newsletter!! Until we meet again, happy writing. Love and all good things, Lynne

P.S. This Saturday - August 5th - is my monthly free Writealong. Join me and a whole bunch of cool people to write together on Zoom at 11 a.m. ET. Here’s where you can sign up.