Life list #12 began as a way to exert control over my manuscript while time was passing me by: I wouldn't cut my hair until I'd finished. The end of my character's story would be the end of my locks, a liberation from the tedium of word counts and misplaced modifiers and the pinch of a wayward strand slammed in a car door. A new start. I never intended to get in touch with my inner Rapunzel.
Life happened, winter came. I finished the novel, but my reluctance to cut my hair became a symptom of my fear the novel was not truly finished. A twenty-two inch blanket to wrap myself in so the world would stay away from my pages just a little longer, just a few more weeks, to find that perfection that had eluded me.
In March, I found out I was a finalist for Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart award. The thought of two thousand people staring up at my freshly-shorn head and thinking, "Wow, she looks like a guy with that haircut," echoed in my mind as I was dress shopping. And, of course, the residual trauma from the Dorothy Hammil foisted upon me in fourth grade was ever-present. I had grand visions of an up-do worthy of the Princess of Monaco. I simply had to keep growing it, chasing an ever-warping superstition that my hair was somehow related to my writing.
Last week, I returned home. If the latest novel were any more finished, it would be book two. No impending public display loomed. No princess of anything more than superstition here. And as I was digging through my desk drawer, filing away newly-scored industry business cards, I found my life list. Crafted almost ten years ago on torn 5x7 spiral paper, green ink, I found it:
Life list #12: Donate hair
Had I remembered it was there? Yes and no. Had I remembered it once was important enough to place alongside #1? No. Could I have imagined that #1 would not be an end-something to cross off when dreams met reality-but a means to usher in all the other things I once committed to the list? Not in a million years. A catalyst to so much but still elusive.
My writing journey has been directly responsible for #7 and #11. Quite possibly #3. And now, #12. Number one is no longer a destination, a quantified and fanciful pinnacle found in some inner fairy tale. It is the path that liberates all the others.
Even Jamaican folklore can't touch that.
For more information on donating hair, visit Locks of Love or Beautiful Lengths.
9 comments:
Wow--first, such gorgeous hair.
I keep trying to do that, but I wuss out when it gets so hot here and I go crazy at a certain point. Maybe when we move back north. (Believe it or not, my brother did it once.)
You're a pretty cool chick.
Oh, L.A., how wonderful you are! And what beautifuly locks to donate... May you cross off all the numbers on your list ;).
Lana did this too. It's a very nice thing to do.
Woo hoo, L.A., what a wonderful gesture.
Jen
OK now I need proof that InkyLuv is of the sheep shorn look. I could cut that much off my beard and no one would know I had done it. Pictures, pictures...pullleeezzzee!
But thank you for offering so much to them who needed it more than you did Laura.
@Pam - thank you ;) I didn't know I was cool outside my mother's mind.
@Marilyn - I think I have about 40 percent crossed off now. Not bad, eh?
@Charles - good for Lana. You always say what a sweetheart she is.
@Jen - thanks. You may not recognize me now :O
@walkingman - you know, I thought about posting a picture, but it would be highly self-indulgent and it's really all about the hair, right? And writing. And time travel. And MacGyver;) I'll sneak in a photo in the next few weeks if you REALLY want to see me with my hair whacked.
Yeah ... really.
Wow. I cannot wait to see you!
I tend to wear my hair short, but good for you for the donation.
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