lovetheuniversallanguage

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https://catroc.com/follow-my-journey/that-was-quick

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Never Say Never.

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Love Is a Universal Language

This is the 2nd post. To read the first post, go to https://catroc.com/follow-my-journey

Blog 2.

Over two years ago, I began writing my book, Love Is a Universal Language, a remarkable story of magical love and devotion against all odds. I scanned about a hundred 70-year-old handwritten love letters between my parents during the post-WWII era. They couldn’t speak each other’s language, so their letters had to be translated. I scanned the original and the translated version of each letter, then started thinking about writing their story.

Well, I wasn’t a writer. Not in the creative sense. Many people dream of writing a book, but I was never one of them. I am a former investment banker, entrepreneur, competitive equestrian, and post-retirement yoga teacher. But not a writer. Until now.

The first challenge was to put the letters in chronological order. Some letters were dated, but not all. I had to read between the lines to get the timeline. I did a spreadsheet to log the letters by date and by author and summarized a blurb of the contents of each letter. I even color-coded the spreadsheet cells—blue for Dad and pink for Mom—so I could easily identify them. All of that organizing was hard enough, and I hadn’t even written the first page!

I was naïve. At first, I thought it would be simple to hire a ghostwriter, tell them what I wanted to say and let them write it for me. DISASTER!!! That relationship ended swiftly and taught me that there is no one else in this world that can write this book. Little did I know then it would be more difficult than I ever imagined.

I took online courses on writing novels, memoirs and creative writing. Spent long hours learning while etching out a plan and outline. I learned how to write engaging dialects, arc the story, and keep the reader engaged at the end of each chapter. I learned about different styles of writing. About having a protagonist and antagonist and what to do and what NEVER to do.

Once I had my outline (which would end up changing several times), I started writing chapter one, entitled “The Blind Date,” to chronicle how my parents met. I think I was already three months into this project before I wrote the first sentence. Eventually, chapter one emerged. My devoted and supportive husband helped edit and critique it with every re-write. Chapter 1 is critical to grab an audience’s attention, and we gave extra thought and contemplation to it. I also learned that the first five pages, or even a prologue, are the most important, spending many hours with revisions. And, as all authors know, you never stop revising. But I finally thought it was in good enough shape to go on to Chapter 2. But it wasn’t. Stay tuned. And please share this post and follow me, especially if you are a literary agent.

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The Treasure Chest

My dad died long before my mother did, leaving her a young widow at the age of 54. When my mother died in 1997 I found a treasure chest while cleaning up her estate. Literally, a treasure chest— an old heavy trunk in the garage, covered in dust with rusted locks, and a scratched black leather surface. It was shoved into a corner and had piles of storage boxes on top. But yet it was indeed a treasure chest—not of gold or silver or diamonds, but of memories and personal mementos.

Among the treasures was a box of love letters between my parents as they courted long-distance for over two years across the pacific. I knew about how my parents met and how they ended up getting married, but I had no idea these letters existed! You see, my mother was Japanese and my father was an American soldier and when they fell in love at first sight they couldn’t speak each other’s language. As a teenager, I asked my dad how did they communicate? He told me “Love Is a Universal Language.”

The night I found the letters my husband, David, and I opened them and read a few. The first one had a sentence that I will forever remember. That one sentence hit me emotionally about the relationship they had. It was a simple sentence but so profoundly felt. It said, “I know someone is reading this letter to you, so I can’t really say what I want to say, but you know how I feel.” David and I cried—no, sobbed—for hours. The tears wouldn’t stop. As we unfolded more letters, we continued to sob until we couldn’t carry on. 

Not only was I grieving my mother’s recent death, but now I found the documentation of their life before me. The sentiment of love and devotion expressed in these letters was so deep and emotional. And to make it even more remarkable, these letters had to be translated for each to read.

Exhausted, we stopped reading the letters for the night and carefully tucked them back into their well-preserved envelopes to take home.

It was not until twenty-three years later during the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic that I rediscovered the old trunk, now safely tucked away in my basement, and I found the time to look at the letters again. Initially, my only intent was to scan the letters into my computer to store them digitally, presumably forever protecting them. When I unfolded the letters to scan, I read all of them—about a hundred letters. Even twenty-three years after Mom’s death and thirty-five years after Dad’s, I still mourned for them. The love that emanated from the letters was overwhelming. Every letter made me cry—again. That is when I decided I had to tell their story. 

And that was the beginning of an exhausting, mentally challenging and emotionally draining effort that has yet to end. Stay tuned. And please share this post and follow me, especially if you are a literary agent.