flash to bang
This blog ended somewhat abruptly last year much to the dismay of my loyal readers. Thank you to everyone who bookmarked Flash to Bang back when it all began in June 2006, and made a point of checking in to read my latest entries. This blog was wonderful fun for me as I began my journey abroad and it is my hope that although I will no longer be updating it, the archive of entries will serve as a helpful resource to anyone considering the expat life.
The end of my blog was unplanned and happened in much the same way that life "happens." When I returned from my trip to Spain and Morocco, I had the good fortune of securing a job in Budapest. I became a freelance writer and editor for All Hungary Media Group's suite of English-language web sites, Caboodle.hu, Pestiside.hu and Chew.hu. This was a wonderful turn of fortune for me as it meant I had achieved my original goal in moving overseas - to work as a journalist abroad.
One of the greatest things about expat life is that it allows you an intimacy with yourself, a personal privacy, that can be harder to honor in your own country. As much as the clatter of culture, government, language and of course, the comi-tragedies of life with family and friends, can enrich and embolden our understanding of ourselves, it also can be like a white noise that blends indiscriminately with our inner voice and lives. I believe at some point or at several points in one's life, it is important to take a breath from all this. When you move to a foreign country, you are suspended in a virtual silence - there is a brand new world at your finger tips, but you are moving through it completely out of context. Billboards and metro announcements don't make sense, eavesdropping in the grocery store aisle is out of the question, no more letters to your government representative or newspaper editors, and much less contact with family and friends. In this way, you are afforded a new inner space, which I considered quite a luxury.
For me, this experience of space allowed me to reflect on my life in a poetic way. I discovered a lot. Some of my most insightful realizations came from contemplating the arc of my writing life. Writing came to me very early. I began writing stories just as soon as I learned the English language. I feel blessed in an ethereal way by my Irish heritage, and by my father who recognized my natural inclination to write and inadvertently or not, made it a permanent fixture in my life when he gave me my first journal in the third grade.
I pursued creative writing with resolute and unwavering devotion all the way through to college. In my sophomore year, my writing life was changed. College was intense for me because it was like a shotgun marriage of my dreams and my pragmatism. I remember telling my mom about my aspiration to become a famous poet and she said, "So you want to make $10,000 a year?" I became quite afraid of the idea of graduating, moving home and working at my childhood desk to whirl together masterpieces for publication and eventual fame. I did not feel I had the courage and resilience for it, nor did I feel my maturity as a writer had been truly realized at that point in my life. So I searched around in my heart for some answers. Through my studies, I had developed an interest in government, especially international relations, so I followed that through, and found journalism, the so-called "third pillar," and a vocation that would promise me a steady paycheck for my writing.
My five years in journalism were a truly remarkable and exciting time in my life. I loved the field, loved telling other people's stories, loved being in the deep end of humanity every day. In addition, the practice of writing in journalistic style honed my understanding of language. It brought more efficiency and effectiveness to my writing, and several thousand clips later, I was truly seasoned.
Yet, there was one serious downside to my experience. All the way back in college, when I envisioned my career path, I imagined that I would be a journalist by day, and a creative writer by night. It seemed plausible at the time - write other people's stories during the day, then come home and write my stories for publication in literary magazines and the like. The reality was quite different. I discovered fairly quickly that at the end of a long day at the computer writing several stories for the newspaper, the last thing I wanted to do when I returned home was write more. In addition, the attempts I made seemed construed by style. It felt like I had to push my writing voice through a sieve in order to switch gears from news writing to creative writing. I found this extremely difficult. Much of my creative writing during that time came out wrong. In one of the night writing classes I took, my teacher said, "Catherine, I am not surprised to learn you are a journalist. Your writing lacks 'emotional through-lines.'" Well, this was quite funny to me because before I was a journalist, my teachers would advise me to be more emotionally efficient and structured in my writing.
As I moved through this inner space afforded to me by living abroad, I realized what I wanted more than anything was to finally and completely return to my creative writing. All the anxiety that goes along with graduating from college and the "commencement" of adult life, as they say, was long gone. I had established myself as a journalist and felt more confident than ever as a writer. But segueing from journalism to creative writing was a much longer and fitful process than I imagined. Even my blog relied heavily on journalistic style. So I began to troubleshoot. I came up with this prescription: pursue creativity in other mediums to awaken my creative writing voice. I began oil painting. I learned how to play the electric bass and formed a band for which I wrote the lyrics, sang and played bass. I began gestating an idea for a novel. I ended my blog. I got hired by All Hungary Media Group. I adored the job, but it was the final reiteration I needed to understand that I was ready, chomping at the bit actually, to leave journalism for a while, and pursue my creative writing full-time. When I left my job six months later, I opened a blank document on my computer and started writing my first novel. And so began a new chapter in my writing life.
Soon after that, I flew to Mumbai, India, and journeyed solo in South Asia for three months. I traveled through South India, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. I wrote every day, not for my book, but in my journal. This was the first time I had journaled regularly since college. I knew everything was ripening. When I returned to Budapest, I had the opportunity to move to Cairo, Egypt, which I did, and in the three months I lived there, I worked on my novel every day, fattening my manuscript to a respectable girth. My goal is to finish my first draft by December.
My time abroad ended on September 15 when, after nearly two-and-a-half years, I flew home to New York for good. This was a big moment for me, and I believe the timing was perfect. In the renaissance of my inner life overseas, I was able to return to my home country with a purer understanding and commitment to my dreams. I know journalism will always be part of my life, because yes, fledgling novelists have to pay the bills, too. But here I am, in my new apartment in Los Angeles, listening to local radio and the neighbors chatting outside, and writing writing writing. In this sense, I believe an extended journey overseas can be a wonderful remedy for any soul. It truly was for mine.
