Time Marches On…and On….

Early Afternoon, Saturday, March 1, 2025, Miami, Florida

 “In March, winter is holding back, and spring is pulling forward. Something holds and something pulls inside of us too.” ―  Jean Hersey

It’s a warm first day of March – and the first day of meteorological spring – in my corner of Miami-Dade County. The temperature is a pleasant 81°F (27°C) under partly sunny skies. With 50% humidity and a gentle breeze blowing from the southwest at 7 MPH (11 Km/H), it feels more like early summer than early spring, with a heat index of 89°F (32°C). Later, it’s expected to be a tad warmer; the forecast calls for a high of 82°F (28°C).

Early March always stirs a whirlpool of emotions within me. This particular week carries even more significance as my birthday approaches – I will be turning 62 on Wednesday, March 5. There’s a blend of gratitude and nostalgia that colors my days. Gratitude, because I am here, relatively healthy, and able to enjoy this beautiful Miami weather. When I last visited a doctor in New Hampshire last August, the only concern was my heightened anxiety, which seems somewhat understandable given life’s incessant changes – two interstate moves in ten months being quite the feat.

Yet, nostalgia seeps in as I reminisce about past birthdays filled with laughter and the presence of loved ones. I especially miss celebrating with my mom, who passed away five months after my 52nd birthday in 2015. I think fondly of my late best friends, Raul Fonseca, who tragically passed two weeks after my 19th birthday in 1982, and Richard de la Pena, who succumbed to cancer nearly 18 years ago. Their absence feels particularly poignant during these moments of reflection.

Over the years, life’s tides have carried many friends and family members to different shores, through moves, disagreements, and the inevitable passage of time. I can barely recall the last time I had a grand birthday celebration with most of my friends gathered. Was it in 2004 or 2005? The memories are hazy, but I vividly recall a birthday ‘party’ before Mom’s illness struck, back in 2009. Perhaps the last truly joyful birthday before my mother’s dementia set in was in 2010 when I was dating a kind-hearted scientist I met on OKCupid. It was my only successful online dating experience, and that girlfriend made my birthday exceptionally memorable.

As I stand at the cusp of another year, I find solace in these memories and a deep appreciation for the journey so far. Each year brings its unique blend of joy and sorrow, but it is these moments of reflection that anchor me, reminding me of the love and experiences that have shaped me.

This week also marks the second anniversary of my embarking on the novel Reunion: Coda. The project began after my 60th birthday, spurred on by a congratulatory email from my former journalism professor, Peter C. Townsend, who had just bought the first edition of my novella Reunion: A Story and enjoyed it immensely. His encouragement to keep writing rekindled a fire within me.

Initially, I optimistically thought it would take six months to a year to complete the novel. However, between my lack of experience in novel writing and the complexities of two interstate moves in a short span, the process has taken longer than anticipated. Now, with the finish line in sight, I look forward to completing the book by the summer of 2025, a testament to perseverance and unwavering support from mentors and friends.

On Writing and Storytelling: A Surprisingly Productive Friday

“You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or despair … Come to it any way but lightly.”  ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

If you hang out here often, you’ve probably noticed that whenever I finish a scene or chapter in the manuscript for Reunion: Coda, there’s an involuntary pause before diving into the next part. This is my first time working on something this long—524 pages and over 128,000 words—and since I don’t write fiction as much as I probably should, these “literary refractory periods,” as I jokingly call them, started happening around Chapter 10. It might be because this is my first successful go at a novel, and I’m dealing with all the usual jitters and self-doubt. Plus, life’s thrown a few unexpected curveballs that have messed with my creative flow and timing.

But yesterday, something magical happened – there was no “literary refractory period.”

“Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to a lot of creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon. or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

When I shuffled back to my writing desk after lunch, I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking yesterday’s work would be a breeze. After hammering away at Chapter 25 on Thursday night, I figured Friday would be a bit of a slog. I’m not the biggest pessimist, but let’s just say I don’t sport rose-colored glasses when it comes to my writing. Deep down, I know I’ve got what it takes to finish this project, but I’ve made some bold predictions about wrapping up Reunion: Coda by certain dates—and here I am, nearly two years later, finally catching a glimmer of hope!

For the first two hours – between 2 and 4 PM – my work shift progressed as I expected it would, with much staring at my computer screen, lots of cursing under my breath, and no fresh ideas popping into my mind to allow me to write even an outline for Chapter 26’s first scene.

I’m not going to lie, folks. As I watched the hours tick by – 2 PM, then 3 PM, then 4 PM, and finally 4:15 PM – my emotions ran the gamut from cautious optimism (“Maybe I’ll start an outline by 6 PM?”) to weary resignation (“Okay, if nothing happens by 5 PM, I’m calling it a day…but, shit, that’s another lost day!”).

Alex Diaz-Granados, on the frustrations of being a writer

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

I’m not going to lie, folks. As I watched the hours tick by – 2 PM, then 3 PM, then 4 PM, and finally 4:15 PM – my emotions ran the gamut from cautious optimism (“Maybe I’ll start an outline by 6 PM?”) to weary resignation (“Okay, if nothing happens by 5 PM, I’m calling it a day…but, shit, that’s another lost day!”).

Despite the frustration, I was determined not to throw in the towel. My ability to write effectively and with enthusiasm dwindles as the day goes on, but I thought, “Alright, let’s at least try to draft an outline. It might not be as thrilling as writing the actual scene, but if I can manage it, I’ll have a solid foundation to build on by next Monday.”

I took a deep breath, stared at my computer screen, and typed:

Ideas and Outlines for Scenes in Reunion: Coda Chapter 26

Author’s Note: There are currently two major events remaining in Reunion: Coda, along with a few minor moments that need to be written before concluding the story. These events were introduced in earlier chapters: specifically, a concert by the New York Philharmonic that Maddie has invited Jim to attend and the opening of several envelopes that Maddie sent to Jim’s apartment before leaving for London in early March—three weeks before the current timeline in the story.

And three hours later, after wrangling with my thoughts and even emailing my friend Juan for his invaluable input, I had not just an outline but a full-fledged scene! I won’t claim it’s the greatest scene ever written, but it certainly holds its ground. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting down a decent piece of writing when you least expect it. It’s like discovering a twenty-dollar bill in an old coat pocket—unexpected, delightful, and just what you need to remind yourself that sometimes, things do fall into place.

“Writing fiction, especially a long work of fiction can be difficult, lonely job; it’s like crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub. There’s plenty of opportunity for self-doubt.” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft