So there was this one time I was lost in Bangkok — completely alone with no phone, no money and no passport.
It sounds like the beginning of a joke, right? But it really happened to me. Here’s the deal:
My husband, Tony, and I were visiting my older sister and her husband, who live and teach in Thailand. My younger sister, Becca, plus her family were also visiting at that time. During our first full day in Bangkok, Becca — who had been in country for about six weeks and was comfortable enough with the language to play tour guide — took Tony and me sight-seeing to the Grand Palace. Since our brother-in-law had been pickpocketed on the river taxi we’d be riding, we decided Becca would hold all our cash in her anti-theft travel purse. Makes sense, right?
As we were getting ready to hop off the water taxi, Becca made sure to tell us to jump off right away. “It’s a quick stop,” she said, “and they don’t wait.” And since we really didn’t want to fall into the Chayo Praha river (disgusting), we lined up near the edge and waited for our stop. During this time, my super-helpful sister began chatting with a travel group from India; they were confused about directions, etc. Then the water taxi guide joined in and let the Indian group know they wanted to get off at the following stop. As we pulled up to our stop, I jumped off quickly, per Becca’s directions. But the water taxi guide, wrongly assuming that Becca and Tony were with the group from India, blocked my sister and husband from getting off with me.
My face must’ve been priceless as I turned around on the dock in the rain and watched the river taxi pull away. Becca’s eyes for sure got huge as she mouthed the words: “Stay there!” to me just before they disappeared down the river.
It was probably the most alone and vulnerable I’d ever been in my life. I had no idea where I was, and really no way to contact anyone or go anywhere, and Becca had all our money. So my only choice, really, was to stay put and wait it out.
Why am I telling you this story in a writing blog? Because, truthfully, writing a novel sometimes feels as solitary and overwhelming as being lost and alone in a foreign city. Yes, I have friends and guidebooks to help me navigate, but much of this process — the writing itself, especially — must be done alone. Completely, overwhelmingly, alone. And the rest of it — the editing and author-ing — is exceptionally confusing to a newbie. Learning to “tweet,” for example, is somewhat like learning a new language!
“Writing is a solitary business”
~Paul Auster~
Just like in Thailand, though, really my only choice is to wait it out. I’m in it too deep to turn back now! So I’ll work through the bewildering revision process — being patient with myself as I work and re-work even small paragraphs, knowing that even small parts hold significance. And I’ll trust that my friends and guides are there to help me — even if they seem to be pulling away down the river…
My Bangkok story ends with Tony & Becca getting off at the next stop (which, probably, we really wanted all along) and quickly taking a tsong-tau back to meet me. Never have I been so happy to see those two familiar faces! Looking back, it wasn’t a long period of time that I was alone — memorable mainly because of its intense vulnerability. That, too, is very much like writing a novel. Putting my heart and soul into this book, knowing I’m going to lay it out there openly for criticism and critique, that’s about as lonely and vulnerable as a writer can get.
LB