Robert Frost Was Wrong

Do you remember when your English teacher told you about the time Robert Frost wrote this:

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

    And sorry I could not travel both

    And be one traveler, long I stood

    And looked down one as far as I could

    To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 You may have been young and so were more interested in recess and video games and dick jokes. Or, you may have been in high school and able to identify with a line or two. Were the two roads the two colleges you were considering, or the two adolescent boys you were crushing on? Maybe the two cities you might move to after graduation? Could be anything, really, but let's skim to the iconic ending:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Here's where Frost and I diverge. One choice is unlikely to make all the difference. Yes, once in awhile, yes, but most of the time you get to remake your choices. You get to drop out of college and reenroll next year in another one. You get to dump your boyfriend and reconnect with the guy you didn't choose when you were a junior in high school. By now he's 23 and has a clean, trimmed beard and a bachelors degree in Environmental Studies. Oops! He got you pregnant and now you are at another place where two roads diverge. I'll admit, this choice you don't get to make twice, but neither decision defines you. The choices you made last year or last decade will either be incorporated into your life, or become memories, and memories are almost dreams. 

The thing is, no matter who you are traveling with, the road forks often and circles back so frequently that it leads one to believe it isn't as much of a road as it is a labyrinth. That is to say, its meaning doesn't rest on one decision made at one point of the journey. It's meaning is in learning to navigate the terrain. Really, the terrain is only a tool. The prize is the ability to move through it meaningfully.

Anyways, to get back on track: I am at one of those points of choice with my writing right now. Over the last couple of years I've had enough changes to cause some shift in the placement of meaning in my life. Questions like "how will I contribute?" and "What matters?" keep appearing in my thoughts. How does that translate to writing? Well, I'm about 30,000 words into the third book in the Hearts of Prey series, yet when I sit down to write, I can't help but think "What's the point of all this? Is this story I'm making up as I go along contributing anything to me or anyone else? It might be an entertaining read for some, and it is generally fun to write, but does it contribute anything else?" Then I look at the yellow legal pad on which I make notes while I'm writing, and it all feels a bit . . . trivial. 

Something I'm learning as I slip into middle age: listen to your instincts. Right now that means putting the Hearts of Prey series on the shelf and doing the thing all writers are warned against: switching genres. That doesn't mean that writing these books hasn't been important. They have been fundamentally important to me, and I will probably circle back to them later on. But right now, with a small following of readers mostly made up of friends and family, I feel it's safe to let my creative compass point me in a new direction: nonfiction. That's a pretty bland word, so here are some other words to add flavor: naturalism, memoir, travel, adventure, reflection, feminism, human experience, Minnesota based. 

The idea is young and needs to grow. Time will tell what it will become, but it will develop on my creative journey and not at a few strategically placed points of choice. 

Thank you for reading, and if you want to read The Road Not Taken by Frost in it's entirety, you may do so here.