A Note to Self

It was Note to Self, as he called it, from deep in his past. His first look at it was a shocker.

Jason Talks to Himself Two Weeks Earlier

“I wish that people were not so quick to tell me what I should do with my life, especially concerning my writing. Way too often I hear words such as ‘You should write a novel. You should write short stories. You have the imagination for both. You should not waste your talent by confining it to commercials.

  I am making a good living writing for television and radio commercials, and I am more than content with that. I have not ‘sold out’ as people allegedly close to me keep saying. That includes my high school friends, my brother, my parents and even sometimes my almost flawless wife. I am much more successful than I ever thought I would be as a writer. Just leave me alone, will you. More people see and hear my commercials than would read any novel that I would write. And writing short stories with no pay, and few readers seems purposeless to me. The people I work for respect me and what I do, more than they would if I were just a novelist or short story writer, and having to do something else to earn a living.”

           I better get down to do finish my work on a new advertisement for a hair spray for men that hasn’t been selling so well so far because the first advertisement was boring, written by someone else. In my commercial I will have a lonely guy sitting by himself in a quiet, rather empty bar one night asking himself out loud, “Where are all the women my age in this town?  The next day he is convinced that he needs to improve his ‘look’ so he buys a bottle of ‘Seriously Sexy Spray” because he likes the name. The next night he goes to an up tempo bar where loud contemporary music is being played. A woman who looks remarkably like Taylor Swift (who was too expensive for the company I am writing for), walks up to him, smells his hair and strokes the top of his head. They dance all night, and she can barely take her hands off of his ‘seriously sexy hair’.

A Two Weeks Later

Two weeks later Jason gets a big surprise. He spots his old friend Fred from his high school days just as he walks into a store that is selling Seriously Sexy Spray. He wants to see how well the product is moving now that the commercial is being shown on the local television network.  Fred sees him at about the same time, waves his hand and steps quickly towards his old friend, a big smile on his face.

“Jason, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something of yours that I have in my house from the time that we were both in high school. I didn’t have your phone number or e-mail address. I’m not good at finding that kind of stuff. We should get together. What do you think?”

Jason wasn’t engaged in any writing at the time, and he hadn’t been with anyone that he could call a friend for a very long time. So he was quick with a ‘yes’. That Friday the two of them met in a bar they used to drink in when they were a little bit under age. It brought back memories, all of them good. They each ordered a beer, and clinked their glasses together as they had done so very long ago.

“So my old friend, what old possession of mine do you have. I saw you walk in with a bag in hand, so I know that you brought it with you.”

Fred then takes an old high school workbook out of the bag, and hands it over to his old friend.

Jason recognizes his handwriting. It had been a very long time since he actually wrote something on paper, as opposed to typing things out on his computer. He couldn’t remember the last time that he actually wrote anything other than a signature with a pen in his hand.

When he looked at the beginning of the writing, he read the words “A Note to Self”, written in big letters.

“Did you read what I wrote?”

“Yes, I confess that I did, but that was a long time ago. I can barely remember what it said, only that it was very written with the kind of literary power that you had in those days. I remember that part of the writing was the beginning of what was going to be your first novel. I guess that you never finished it.”

The time passed slowly for Jason, not that he did not appreciate his old friend’s company, and laughed several times about a long shared joke. But he very much wanted to read what he had written. His impatience grew stronger as the time passed.

He got home late, his wife was asleep in bed. That was just as well. He so desperately wanted to do the reading, and did not want to make conversation. 

A Note To Self

‘Our English teacher today confessed that when he was our age in high school he wanted to write novels. He started two or three of them, but never finished one. Going to university, getting married and early on getting his job as a teacher negated the possibility of his ever finishing his novels, or even starting another more. He hoped that when he retired, he might get back to them, or at least start another one. I do not want to delay like that. I have started what will be my first novel, and as soon as I finish it, I will begin writing another. Whatever work I have to do to support myself, I will not let it get in the way of my writing novels and short stories. It will be selling out, and not living up to my full potential, the work that I want to do. I want to be true to my dreams. Everything else would be failure.

Jason Reacts

Jason’s first reaction was to was just to stare in silence.

‘It has been so long, since I was that idealistic person. If he could travel through time, he would just shake his head in disappointment when he saw how far I have strayed from my dreams, my dreamer’s soul. What do I do now?’

It did not take him long to change his life to a place back in time.. He sat on the front porch with pen in hand. He read through the part that was already written, and sooner than he thought possible, the story returned to him, and he started writing. It was good that it was a Friday night, as he wrote through most of the night.