I'm about fifteen minutes away from typing the first words of a new Red Mountain story. Truth be told, I may dictate them from the treadmill… haven't gotten that far yet. Either way, what a wild sensation to be returning to my old friends on the mountain. As you know, this one is the tale of Otis and his wife coming up in the wine world in Sonoma and then making their way to Red Mountain in the nineties. Though I have a rough outline, I get the feeling the answer to this one lies in free writing and exploration, letting the characters lead the way. Whatever it takes, I'm damn near giddy thinking about slipping back into the skin of the ol' desert dog himself, the sometimes grumpy and ever passionate winemaker called Otis Till.
My wife, son, and I are off to Sonoma in a few weeks for research. You wouldn't believe the California wine legends who have agreed to share their stories with me. I feel so much gratitude right now, thinking of the people I get to talk to in the pursuit of bringing authenticity to my books. In the last couple of weeks, while working on my mystery-in-progress, I had the pleasure of chatting and brainstorming with a medical examiner and two detectives. No one tells you that becoming a novelist requires journalism skills; I really dig that part.
Otis is howling at me, so I better get to the point. Back when I was in the wine business, I came across a man named David Flaherty, who stills works for the Washington State Wine Commission. Have you ever come across someone that you instantly connect with? David and I were fast friends, and I suspect if we had ever lived in the same town, we'd be even closer.
In addition to being the kind of person that makes everyone around him feel good, David's an incredibly creative guy, a very skilled actor and writer. While living in New York, he attended NYU's Tisch School of the Arts and also cut his teeth in the wine game working at Terroir, one of the coolest wine bars on earth.
David is so kind to follow me and read my newsletters, and he called after reading one a few weeks ago where I mentioned the idea of getting out of your own way when creating, simply being present and letting it flow. We hadn't spoken in years, but we jumped in as if we'd chatted the day before. He said my words had resonated with him and that he had to share something with me. He proceeded to read a piece of advice legendary dancer and choreographer Martha Graham gave to another dancer, Agnes de Mille.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
Read that again, folks. Take your time. It's not only for creatives, this is advice for all to live by. Be your own person, own that person. As Oscar Wilde said, “Be yourself; everyone else is taken.” By the time David had finished, we were both in tears. Keeping the channel open feels a lot like having faith to me, jumping into the unknown and knowing it will be okay, knowing that all we have to do is be ourselves.
So I'm off into the blessed unrest of carving out the love story of Otis and Rebecca, and blessed unrest it is, as while I'm giddy as can be, I'm also scared to death. Isn't that the push and pull of life?
Before I leave, here's what I'm reading right now, both of which I'm enjoying tremendously. Have you read them?
