My Father's Voice

Finding my father's voice is no easy task.

I'm in the throws of writing the story of my dad's life during the "dirty thirties." With the help of my writing group, The Wordsmiths, I'm honing what he might have been thinking, for example, as he drove to his first wife's funeral or how he might have sounded in conversations with other working stiffs or his family.

I knew my dad as a jovial fellow, who liked to play pranks, dance my mom around the kitchen, smoke, joke and drink whiskey. He was also someone always charge or attempting to be. That came from years of running construction crews, working on heavy equipment or driving truck. He made one of the first successful long haul treks to Alaska on the Alcan Highway with bombs for Uncle Sam. In my childish mind's eye, since he was gone a lot because of his work, when he came home - he was the returning hero. That wasn't necessarily who he was as a young man in his twenties.

 My first draft of Cat Skinner, Chapter 1 was diplomatically, but brutally critiqued, not to mention their un-sureness about the book title. "Would your father have pleaded with his mother for assistance? From what we know of your dad, he was usually giving orders. And what did he call her: Ma, Mother, Mom? Who's speaking here? Are you sure that's not your voice and personality instead of your dad's?"

Great feedback creating an even greater challenge for me. Fortunately I have a tape recording of my father telling stories of his youth to help with the syntax, but getting into his head and creating a scene which the reader can see through my father's eyes is stretching my imagination and skill.

While the outline of the story is in my head, my own journey to get it written is an adventure in researching the 30's, asking relatives a myriad of questions, particularly my sister, Lore; and spending a lot of time in decades past - if only mentally. It's fun, exciting and absolutely daunting.

You'll be the first to know when and if I ever really find my father's voice.