Raw and unedited. Please excuse the typos.
So far so good! For the next seven days I’ve set a goal for myself to write double my goal in case I can’t get much writing done during a weeklong trip I have coming up. Today I smashed it out for a final word count of 4,534. I’m driven by a fear that I’m going to fail this. I have this idea that this book will bring enough attention to the situation in Okinawa that public outcry will be able to make a difference.
In my imagination I see influential people becoming emotionally involved and making this tiny island chain’s issues the world’s issues. You won’t hurt my feelings if you call me crazy, I’ll agree with you. But really, shouldn’t all the tiny island chain problems be world problems? We think in divisionary terms, but we are all part and parcel with each other. Even in big, important America tiny islands should matter. We all know it’s not how big your island is that matters, but how you use it. The Ryukuans know how to use their island.
So, to the writing. So far I’ve hit my word goal. I’ve sworn off social media for the most part so I’m not distracted. This significant timing because in the US the Supreme Court just reversed Roe versus Wade. Significant timing because I just wrote a piece last week called Children of Boto for a pro-choice anthology. Significant because not even this turmoil could distract me from my mission here.
If I can write 3,000 words for the next six days (and then go back to the 1,500 daily goal) I will make my August 4 deadline even if I don’t write a word on my trip. If I do manage to write while I’m traveling, I can finish sooner.
I’m so determined to complete this project, I am mercilessly cutting out other areas of my life. I’m an information hoarder. I get anxious to delete text messages, emails, notifications but they affect my attention. Today, for the first time ever I deleted all my ongoing text conversations (I counted 27), I stopped notifications for all my socials (I will catch up on August 5), and I cleaned out my Signal conversations. I unsubsubscribed to quite a few marketing emails, deleted my entire socials folder and didn’t answer new messages as they came in but waited until I was done with my writing session. I actually muted my phone while I worked.
I’ve been preparing for this even before I knew I was going to do it, I think. Since the last full moon I’ve been weeding out all my possessions, cutting down on the things that distract me. I got rid of all my clothes except what I actually wear. My wardrobe now fits in one drawer. I’ve tossed piles and piles of paper. I’ve been giving away projects I will never do. Distractions get the ax.
I didn’t find out from the agent that she would look at a novel from me until June 21… only three days ago! She liked what I sent, a novella called Isle of War. She asked to see a novel. This is the birth story of Inujini and why I decided to write it in six weeks. Everything is right with this. It’s bigger than I am. I’m just a small part of a larger, altering change. I’m excited to see this through.
Where I am in the story: it’s the next morning and Yuki’s family is headed for the caves to hide. A Japanese soldier has come through the village to warn the island people that the Americans are coming and they will torture civilians if they catch them. He gives Yuki’s father a grenade so he can spare his family the pain if they get captured.
While the Japanese were trying to instill fear in the Shimanchu people by using hyperbole, they weren’t entirely wrong. American soldiers have horrifically tortured the civilians of Okinawa from the beginning, but they usually only torture the young girls. The youngest victim to be raped by an American soldier was only nine month’s old. I repeat this from yesterday because I can’t believe it.
Pretty terrible, right? Unfortunately, that isn’t fiction. Okinawa has the highest rate of sexual abuse and crime than any other US military base in the world. This is real horror, and being real we all have an obligation to stop it.
We don’t become enlightened by staring into the sun, but by learning to see in the dark.