45 Hours by Debra H. Goldstein
45 hours.
That’s all my
daughter and I had.
We landed at
La Guardia at 11 on Friday night knowing we had to move fast – our departure
time from New York City was at eight on Sunday. How much could we pack into
forty-five hours?
Answer: A lot
– 3 Broadway shows, 2 decent dinners, numerous snacks including pizza by the
slice from a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, touring St. Patrick’s, shopping at
Uniglo, and strolling through Central Park paying special attention to the
Strawberry Fields section where the IMAGINE tribute to John Lennon is.
Maybe the
speed of our trip heightened my senses. Perhaps it was that delicious slice of
pizza passed through a little window out of the tiniest shop I have ever set
foot in. Customers crowded inside, glanced at stacked warming trays being kept
filled with pizzas constantly pulled from the oven, ordered, paid and went
outside to wait on the sidewalk of 46th Street. Most likely, it is
that I’ve finally become a more “aware” writer. That awareness led me to
observe and remember what I saw to use in a future story or book.
I
can easily see the pizza window in one of my new Sarah Blair cozy mystery books
or a cleaned-up version of the waitress at another restaurant who complained
because “they all want to hold the f*ing cheese as if that’s the fattening part
of their order.” Future dialogue will probably be lifted from the language I
heard on the street and in theaters, even when I couldn’t translate it. I was
fascinated by the difference in the “Silence your Cell phone” messages at Kinky
Boots and The Band’s Visit. The first had an English bloke talking on a cell
phone so the audience could overhear his conversation requesting the bloody racket
of even vibrate be done away with while the second presented the request
through an elegant slide show.
In
the past, sounds and surrounding activities made an impression on me, but I
never converted them into literary scenes. Now, they play out like little
Instagram moments or story boards in my mind. Rather than simply remember them,
I will recreate my impressions and memories in a more lasting format.
Do
you remember when your mind clicked, and your life became part of your writing?
