Writing and podcasting a novel 12 Nov 2020


podcast microphone, paper with cursive writing, CAP logo

Todays Topic

Welcome friend to Create Art Podcast where we create more than we consume. I am Timothy Kimo Brien your thankful head instigator with over 20 years in arts and education helping you tame your inner critic and provide you with commentary, interviews, discussions, and projects that will inspire you to create art. This month I will be podcasting daily and writing a novel in 30 days. I am participating in NaPodPoMo and NaNoWriMo. You will be able to listen to what I wrote for the day and read it at the same time. I like to practice what I preach when it comes to art so I am challenging myself to write and having you come along for the ride. I hope this inspires you to accomplish your goals with your art and if you would like to share what you are doing email me at timothy@createartpodcast.com

The Story So Far

12 Nov 2020  1749   daily count 21085 cumulative count

                Carl took a few deep breaths before reading the note. He wasn’t sure what it would contain, and his tears were making everything blurry. His heart began to race but a bit of calmness interrupted him when he thought ‘at least we can spare the child from having to identify the body’. Carl grabbed the book and note and went into the stall for privacy in case another patron came in. The writing looked like it was done quickly and was difficult to read because it was written in cursive. Who uses cursive these days thought Carl. Someone abandoning their child that’s who, came the thought back at him. The note read as follows

                “Carl, I can no longer care for my daughter Myra. We live far from here and she does not know our address. Once you read this note I will have already moved all my things from the rented room and moved on. My heart is devastated that I can no longer care for her as she should be cared for. There is no mother in the picture and no siblings. I will not come back for her as I do not know how much longer I will live. Please raise her as your own, I will not suddenly pop out of nowhere and try to take her back. I have left you with a book that is for you alone. Do not show it to Myra under any circumstances. There are instructions in the book and you will understand once you read the instructions. Under no circumstances leaf through the book. Once you read the instructions you will understand why.

                I know you think of me as a detestable person, and that is the exact reason why I am entrusting Myra’s care unto you. No matter what you or Myra thinks of me, I think of myself in much worse terms. It was not my intention to abandon my daughter as she is my world, however, circumstances have forced my hand and I can no longer care for her in the way she needs to be cared for. I know I cannot ask anything of you, but I am requesting that you do not turn her over to the state. You seem to be a resourceful person that can get things done. I don’t know if you really are, but it is my hope that you are. Please care for my daughter as your own. She is not aware of what is transpiring. She is a very alert and obedient child, I gave her a secret phrase that means she is to follow what you say. Tell her the giraffes are drinking tea with the flamingos. I am not sure how to make life easier on her, if you should tell her I died or committed suicide or I just ran off, I leave that to you as I know I will never see the two of you again. Its not that I don’t care what you tell her, its that I have come to terms with what I am doing right now.

                Again, don’t try to find me, by the time you have read this letter I have already made it past state lines and you and she will never find me. Take care of my daisy.

                Carl turned over the note in hopes that the father had written his name by accident or left some other clue as to who he was or where he was going. There was nothing, even the ink that the father used didn’t bleed onto the other side of the note. He looked at the book that the note referred to, it was hardbound, plain blue and had golden words in an old-style script that read diary. The edge of the papers in the book seemed ruffled and dog eared like he did with his books. He sat in the stall for some time knowing that he would have to face Cheryl, but more importantly Myra.

                Summoning his composure, he got up from the stall, placed the book and note on the sink and began to wash his face. The cool water brought him out of his fog from the recent events and the note. He called his boss as this obviously was not going to resolve itself quickly.

                “Hey Fred, this is Carl. I am going to have to take the rest of the week off, just not feeling good today, can you cover down for me at tomorrows meeting,” asked Carl with a mechanical voice that lacked any emotion?

                “Sure, not a problem, sorry you are not feeling well, going back to the doctor,” asked Fred?

                “Yeah, I think that would be best, calling him right after I get off the phone with you,” Carl replied almost whispering.

                “Okay get better and let me know what turns up. We can handle everything here,” said Fred.

                Carl clicked off, one task done, now he had to call his brother and tell him the news.

                “Nate, yeah we need to talk quickly. There is a situation at the coffee shop that I am going to need your expertise in,” Carl was whispering again.

                “What kind of situation are you talking about,” asked Nate on the other end of the call sounding worried?

                “A guy just abandoned his daughter here and left her for me to take care of. She doesn’t know and neither does Cheryl. I am in the bathroom now and I have the note the guy left. It explicitly states he wants me to take care of the kid. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. He had been coming here with the kid for the past few days and today he just went into the bathroom and left without her,” Carl said.

                “Okay, has anyone called the police,” asked Nate?

                “No this just happened. Cheryl asked me to talk with the guy when he went into the bathroom and the guy left before I could talk to him. Cheryl is with the girl in the shop and neither one knows,” said Carl.  

                “Did the guy sign the note,” asked Nate.

                “I already looked, no signature. I don’t know the guys name, the note says that he has left and we won’t be able to track him down, he rented a room and by the time I read the note his bags are already packed. Also left a diary, it looks really old and he left instructions not to let the girl see it and not to read anything but the instructions in the diary, this is not a good scene right now and I need your help,” Carl’s voice was getting faster to match his heart beats.

                ‘Okay, do nothing for right now. If he abandoned his child and split there isn’t much we can do about that. If he is leaving her to you, well that’s just weird. I don’t think you are capable of raising a child at this point in your life. I’ll come down there and we can all figure this out. Where is the child right now,” Nate asked trying to get Carl to calm down.

                “She is with Cheryl in the shop. I gotta get out there and let her know what is going on, get down here as soon as you can,” asked Carl.

                “Heading down there right now,” said Nate as Carl clicked off the phone.

                Carl washed his face again and looked at the note and the book. He talked to himself audibly. ‘Okay, pull it together, we are going out there and sit down and drink some coffee and talk with Myra and Cheryl. We can do this, its not that hard. Well maybe as hard as passing kidney stones, but you got through that, maybe as hard as a brain tumor, but we will get through that as well. Okay this is very hard, but we don’t fail. Now get out there and handle this situation.’ Carl grabbed the note and the book, took a deep breath and opened the door. He walked straight to the table where Cheryl and Myra sat. He kept standing above Cheryl and Myra and said,

                “Hey Myra, the giraffes and flamingos are having a tea party,” Carl said calmly.

                “That is not right, “said Myra.

                “You are correct, the giraffe’s are having tea with the flamingos, “said Carl correcting himself. He handed the note wordlessly to Cheryl. She sped through the note quickly.

                “Where,” Cheryl started to ask?

                “Hey Myra, would you like that chocolate chip muffin that Cheryl told you about, its okay to have it,” said Carl as he sat down at the table.

                “Sure, that sounds great. Now I know you are not a stranger. Where is my dad,” asked Myra?

                That was the question that Carl knew was coming and did not have an answer for. He had prepared for everything else as best he could, but preparing for that answer, he would have stayed in the bathroom for the rest of his life.

                “Cheryl can you go grab that muffin and another chocolate milk for Myra, thank you,” said Carl quickly. Carl thought it would be best not to make a scene as most people came to coffee shops to break up or share things where they didn’t want the recipient of the news to make a scene. Cheryl took the hint and went back to the counter to grab the muffin and milk. “Okay Myra, it looks like I will be taking care of your for awhile. Your dad told me the code so you would know to go ahead and trust me. I am not sure when you will be seeing him, but I have a very nice place for you to stay at and my older brother Nate is coming by here to help us out okay,” said Carl?

                “He’s not coming back to get me is he?,” asked Myra. There were no tears rolling down her cheeks, her eyes just went downward to the table in front of her. There was no wavering in her voice that would betray her feelings.

                “I don’t know. What was his name, “asked Carl?

                “He said I can’t ever say his name to anyone. He said that there was no code that would allow me to do that. I was only allowed to call him dad, even at school, he didn’t let the teachers write his name, only mine,” said Myra. 

Reaching Out

To reach out to me, email timothy@createartpodcast.com I would love to hear about your journey and what you are working on. If you would like to be on the show or have me discuss a topic that is giving you trouble write in and lets start that conversation.

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