June 16, 2017 by T. Gregory Argall
While sorting through files saved from my old computer, I found a Word document simply called “Stone.” I had no memory of writing anything by that name. but upon opening it I vaguely recalled very briefly starting to write a story and never, ever getting back to it.
Here’s what I had written…
Jacob had a stone in his shoe.
It was probably no more than a tiny pebble, but as it pressed into the joint behind his small toe, it felt like Ayers Rock and it was annoying the hell out of him. The people shooting at him weren’t helping to improve his mood, either.
That’s all I had written before apparently being whimsically distracted by some other topic or project or possibly a shiny thing outside the window.
Exciting, though, isn’t it?
Suddenly being thrown, in a literary sense, into the thick of the action. You think it’s all about a tiny stone in a shoe and then all of a sudden, zoom out, and no, wait, what, people are shooting at you? Who are these people? Why are they shooting? Is Jacob going to shoot back? Should he throw his shoe at them? That might solve both his problems, but then he’d be missing a shoe.
There are so many questions. What happens next? What happens next?!
I haven’t a clue. No idea at all.
Wherever I had intended for this tale to lead, that plan is gone, lost to time and distraction.
Maybe someday I’ll pick up where I left off and resume the adventurous tale of Stone-Shoed Jacob. Maybe. But if I do, it will be a different story than it started out as.
That sounds like the sort of thing that should feel sad, but I’m not sure that it does.
Stories grow and evolve in the telling. For this one to evolve into the parable it was meant to be, perhaps it had to sit on a shelf for ten years, allowing those few sentences to percolate and ponder before continuing.
More likely, I’ll never look at it again and it will remain unfinished forever.
As always, try to be nice to each other.