Living a thin slice of the dream

the family adventure part

Yesterday my editor Dan Richards and I sat in our van going over edits for my upcoming bookito Burn, Baby, Burn: Spark The Creative Spirit Within.

There we sat, in the second row captain’s chairs, maybe 50 feet from the diner where we’d eaten breakfast. I was having the time of my life reviewing where my little book sucked. 

A good editor shows you both the strengths and weaknesses of your manuscript. Dan is more than a good editor. He’s a great editor, one who practices the fine art of subtraction. Like a master designer, he strengthens by removing the excess.

Take the first several paragraphs for example. He crossed out a lot of it. Many an author might see that as a bloodletting. To me it was purification.

There we were, AC blasting, cocooned in this modern metal cave, going over his summary of what worked and what didn’t . . . and I had a flashback to a flashforward of that moment. 

I was living a thin slice of the dream.

We all have dreams. Things we yearn for, what we’d like to see slip into our daily experience.

It was only a year or three ago I was writing variations on a simple dream in my Vision Pages: For a van that would work as a mobile ops unit while doubling as a family adventure vehicle.

Something Dan said prompted the memory of pre-visioning the very moment we were living. It swept through me. I could vividly recall daydreaming about a moment exactly like this. Where I’d be engaged in creative work in the van with someone else. 

(How fast we age out of some dreams, eh? . . . a daydream from 35 years ago would also have entertained the idea of me and someone else in a van, to far different result . . . πŸ™‚

In those Vision Pages I imagined interviews, collaborations, curiosity conversations . . . I imagined the van as my mobile creative studio. And here I was living this aspect of it for the first time.

It was thrill inducing. You’ve probably had those moments of recognition. They steer through your body like a drunken fairy spewing magic dust to every corner. You shiver bodily, in unlikely places even. 

If Dan hadn’t sparked this recall in conversation I might not have noticed it . . . 

Which causes me to wonder . . . do we live out small victories all the time and miss them?

For you β€”

Evan Griffith
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